


50 Ways to Strengthen Your Relationship

by insominia



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 26,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 one shots, ficlets, drabbles etc etc about F!Courier's relationship with Boone, featuring companions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make your partner your first priority

**Author's Note:**

> What follows are 50 short one shots based off someone's idea of '50 Ways to Strengthen Your Relationship' (if you want a laugh they can be found here http://www.yourtango.com/experts/the-ninja-wife/71-ways-love-your-partner-better)
> 
> There's a bit of everything here, angst, romance, fluff, smut, humor, friendship... They're not in any chronological order, and though there is a chronology, they certainly don't have to be read in sequence. There's a blanket mature rating for the whole thing just to cover the smut in some of the entries, but a lot of them could be general.

Ironic that it would end like this, but he supposed it was fitting. After Bitter Springs, Craig Boone knew that he was living on borrowed time, knew that one day his mistakes would catch up with him. He hadn't counted on them catching up with him in a manner quite so poetic. The sun beat down on him, merciless and far more unforgiving than it had ever been, as he hung, almost lifeless on the cross. A cross looking down on the very slave camp where he had been forced to take  _that_ shot.

He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was like sandpaper. His lips were cracked, he could taste blood and for the briefest moment he reveled in what little moisture the sensation offered him. Had he ever been so hot? The legionaries who had strung him up here had left him in his armor, armor which was suffocating at the best of times. Although they had left him with his beret, if only to mock those who might sight him through a scope, they'd taken his sunglasses forcing his eyes into the blinding sun. His limbs had long stopped hurting at least, settling instead into a dull ache. It would not be the pain that killed him, just a toss up now between the thirst or the heat. 

 _Should have stuck with the courier_ , he thought pointlessly. She'd be miles away by now, the lead on Benny, the first she'd had since meeting Boone in Novac over a month ago, would have been too big an opportunity to pass up. Neither could Boone ignore the news that a legion raiding party had been spotted, a big one. Boone knew he couldn't ask her to ignore the only hint she'd had in tracking down the guy who shot her in the head, but neither could he overlook his own chance at a little retribution. Unwilling, or perhaps unable to have the inevitable conversation that would have them parting ways, Boone had disappeared overnight, hoping to avoid the goodbyes that would come with the dawn.

He liked the courier who had taken to calling herself 'Six' in lieu of remembering what her actual name was. She didn't ask questions, kept her head down and was the first person in...well... _ever_ to not berate him for being so quiet. She liked silence as much as he did and that suited him just fine. That and she was good with a gun. _Goddamn_ was she good with a gun. Probably because she didn't have something as inconvenient as memory to clog her mind up with. Survival was all she knew.

That and helping people.

He would have laughed if he weren't trying to stay alive, her capacity for helping people was limitless. He'd never seen anything like it. No work too menial, too miserable or too mediocre for her. Hell, she'd trek across the Mojave barefoot to return a toy car to a kid if given half a chance. It made him feel good about himself, something he hadn't done in a long, _long_ while. Made him feel like he was part of something bigger, something better than himself. Maybe even going some way to balance out the horrors of his past.

 _Not enough obviously_ , he grimaced, Goddamn the sun was bright. Why the hell did they have to take his shades? He tried to distract himself, as if he ever could, remembering the good things he had done in the last few weeks, a small step down the long, long road of redemption. If he weren't in so much pain he'd have been quite disconcerted that at the point of his death he was musing on the courier rather than the wife he had forced himself to remember every single day.

In the distance he could hear shots. He would have sighed were he not on the very brink of passing out, no doubt the party had picked up some other poor saps. He'd have company tonight, if he lived long enough to see it. "Boone!" a call came. Looking up was out of the question, so he settled for squinting, though his vision was obviously playing tricks on him, as it was the courier he saw, holstering her pistol and running towards him. 'Hm,' he groaned, he figured it would have been Carla.

"Oh fuck, Boone. Oh fuck fuck _fuck_ ," Six cried, she pulled out a knife but didn't want to cut him down prematurely. She looked him over, "fuck it," he heard her gasp. His right arm was cut loose, then his left, though they hurt too much to do anything other than slump forward. He would have fallen from the cross were she not there to brace him. He crumpled over her shoulder as she freed his legs and lowered him gently to the ground, or at least as gently as she could, struggling against his weight. She at least had the foresight to rest him behind a rock.

_Blessed shade._

The sun no longer beat down on him and she was tearing his armor off him. And then, the sweet, sweet taste of purified water, colder than anything he could have dreamt of spilled over his lips. He choked at first, spluttering it out but she kept it to his lips and soon he was gulping it down. He had never tasted anything quite so wonderful in his life. Six was talking to him, trying to keep him conscious but he couldn't make out her words. She was pouring water over his practically naked body, but he had no thought for modesty, he just smiled at the sensation as she set to work treating his wounds. The blissful oblivion of med-x swimming through his veins as she worked.

Boone tried to speak, but the effort was overwhelming. "What is it?" Six asked, urgently, looking into his face, "Boone?... _Boone_?! Tell me what's wrong!"

"Benny?" he spluttered, eventually. She paused and then laughed, a glorious sound he would treasure forever.

"Fuck Benny, it's you I'm worried about." She punched his chest, hard, "Don't take off like that, you fucking moron!"

He chuckled and finally gave himself up to the darkness. The last thing he felt was the thin metal of his sunglasses slip onto his face, shielding his closed eyes from what remained of the sun.  


	2. Leave I love you notes

The blank sheet before him inspired more trepidation than an entire squad of legionaries. It stretched out endlessly, the pencil in his hand touching the paper but not actually writing anything. The emptiness mocked him.

Boone knew he _should_ write something.

Just in case.

He'd written one for Carla, something kept in his personal effects to be delivered when the bad karma caught up with him. It never had of course, but he'd carried the letter with him long after she'd gone. Sometimes he re-read it, if just to remind himself how he felt about her. He took a deep breath and let the pencil run across the page.

_Six._

_Wanted to say thanks. You probably don't know what you've done for me since Novac. Saved my life in more ways than you know._

_So thanks._

_Thought I was done for._

_Thought meeting you would be a bad thing._

_Was wrong._

_Feel better since meeting you. Did from the start. Not just after Bitter Springs._

_Made me feel things I didn't think I could feel again._

_No good with words._

_Hope I showed you some of it, at least._

_So thanks._

_For everything._

 

He read it. Sighed. Tore it up. Threw it in the bin. No good with words.


	3. Share

She wasn't entirely sure what it was she had done, but Six at least knew that whatever it was had reminded Boone of Carla. One random observation about the powder gangers and the dynamic between them was gone. He'd stopped walking, stared at her from behind his shades as though he'd just realized she was there, or that she wasn't Carla, or  _something_ , and with that he'd put a considerable distance between them. He still had her back, she trusted him that much, just from way up on a ridge that meant he didn't have to be anywhere near her, while he thought about whatever it was he thought about when this shit happened. Which it did, with horrible regularity. And she was always left none the wiser as to what it was she had done. Was it something she'd said? The way she'd said it? Hell it might have been the way she decided to lace her boots that morning for all she knew. Something would set him off and he'd retreat within himself, an impressive feat for a man who already lived inside his own head. She couldn't get anything out of him when he was like this, sometimes for an hour, perhaps a day, one time it had been a week.

She shouldn't be surprised. Whatever it was, this _thing_ between them, the thing that had seen them go into each other's arms that first night at the Lucky 38 and found them there almost every night since, it could never stand up to the memory of Carla. Six wasn't sure she wanted it to. Boone was still in love with his wife, if not the woman then the idea and whatever it was he shared with the courier, it was certainly _not_ love.

This was an itch. A need. An affirmation that they had made it through another day. It wasn't love. It was barely affection. And if they found themselves kissing tenderly in the elevator without any intention of taking it further, or reaching out to touch the other just to reassure themselves that they were still there, they would both swear down that there were no _feelings_ involved. How could there be when all his feelings were centered on a dead woman with whom Six had no choice but to share him with?

She sighed, but it came out more like a frustrated growl. Given the desolation of their surroundings Boone heard it, the rifle slotting into his arms as he looked instinctively towards her. Shit like this was going to drive her mad, she mused. Let him think of Carla, she thought bitterly as he lowered the rifle, it's not like she could do anything about it anyway. She could handle it, as long as he came back to her bed...couch, table, floor, hell they did it against the fridge once, and scratched that itch, she could handle it.

Boone raised a hand indicating the way was clear, but made no effort to rejoin her, keeping his distance as she trekked down the ruined tarmac. She could handle it, she told herself, desperately trying to ignore the pit of desolation forming in her gut.


	4. Try not to argue over finances

**4\. Try not to argue over finances**

 

"2000 caps?" Six gasped, "2000 caps?!"

"Move along please," the dull intonation of the Securitron demanded.

Six didn't move.

"2000 caps?"

She felt Boone's hand take her arm, roughly, and then she was being dragged away. Securitrons didn't ask twice. He took her back to the Wrangler, forcing her up the stairs into their rented room. He didn't release her until the door was closed. She sat on the bed still staring ahead, dazed, shocked, he wasn't entirely sure if she realized they weren't at the gate anymore.

"2000 caps?" she said, again. And then, before Boone even realized what was happening she was face down, her shoulders heaving with sobs while she wailed, horrible pained groans that chilled him. He had seen her almost bleed out from gunshot wounds, pass within an inch of her life after a radscorpion poisoned her, kill fiends without so much as batting an eyelid, hell he'd watched her kill and _then_ decapitate a woman to collect a bounty. He'd never seen her cry.

He watched her, there was nothing else he could do. He thought maybe he should comfort her, but he wasn't entirely sure what was going on. " _So close_ ," he heard her cry, her voice muffled by the pillows she was now lying face down in, " _So close...Benny...2000 caps?...bastard...close..._ "

Sobs became sniffles, sniffles subsided altogether as she cried herself to sleep. Boone still hadn't moved from his place at the end of the bed. Silently he slipped from the room.

When she woke the following morning, he was already packing their things. "We gotta go?" she asked, surprised.

"We gotta go," he said, dropping into her hands a small bag. A small bag filled with caps.

She stared at it for a long time. "Oh," she breathed, "2000 caps. Oh...Craig," she said, softly, he flinched at such tender use of his Christian name, the first time she'd ever said it. She jumped off the bed and flung her arms around him, " _thank you_ ," she held him tightly, though he did not return the embrace. "But...how did you...where did you...?"

"Don't worry about it," he waved her off, "let's go get Benny."

They headed out, the bar a little fuller than Six had expected, she couldn't help but notice a few faces she hadn't seen before.

"Fisto is programmed to please," a new robot announced as they passed.

Six jumped, "the hell is that?"

Boone didn't so much as look to the side, "don't worry about it."  


	5. Make an 'I love you' call

High up on his vantage point, Boone's scope allowed him the sight of the squad setting up camp. The sentries were taking up guard duty and he took the chance to allow himself a brief respite.

Setting aside the rifle he sat up, stretching out his protesting limbs; stiff after a long day of lying in the baking sun. He chugged back a bottle of purified water but grimaced – it was warm. For a moment he was able to admire the silence. Though he could still make out the camp at a distance, the sounds were lost to him, only the faint whisper of the desert breeze skimming the sandy dunes.

"Boone?" Six's unmistakable voice cracked through the ham radio the NCR had given him when he'd volunteered to serve as a look out.

He slipped on the headset, "Yeah?"

"How's it looking?"

"Fine," he opened another bottle, "thought I saw fiends earlier. Keep an eye."

"Will do," she paused, as though she should prolong the conversation now that she'd instigated, "you ok?"

"Yeah," he should probably make an effort too, "you?"

He practically heard her shoulders roll, "Doc says the worst aren't out of the woods yet, but they should be ok once we get to McCarran."

"You'll have a clear path."

"I know."

Silence. She'd probably wandered off, she didn't always sign off their conversations, just stopped talking. He downed the remaining water and lay back down on the dune, leaving the headset on, just in case.

Moments later his ears were filled with a strange static which upon reflection he realized was actually sloppy chewing. "You know," Six said, obviously through a mouthful of food, "those pre-war guys had it right. If I lived in a world where cram was considered food, I'd nuke the place too." He heard her swallow followed by a hearty glug of something. "I think radiation gives this stuff a kick...makes it better."

The radio only seemed to amplify the rather unpleasant noises the courier was apparently capable of emitting. Chew. Swallow. Silence. A rustling. Silence. More rustling. Silence. Page turning, "Hm. Says here they key to a happy home is to color coordinate your furniture and walls. Apparently taupe is a must...you think I could talk to House? Get him to paint the walls?"

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

"Keeping you company," she replied without missing a beat, "Found an old magazine, thought I'd read it to you."

Anyone else might have smiled, maybe even laughed. Boone scowled. "You don't talk this much when we're actually together."

"Yeah, but how else will you know I'm here?" She asked, chewing something that sounded like bubblegum, from the sound of it, with her mouth open. Boone wanted to shoot her.

"I'll know."

"If you're sure. But know that you're missing out on...God...did they actually wear that shit? You should see this, this guy's got these pants..."

 


	6. Be a friend and a partner

"Gomorrah?" Cass suggested.

Six leaned back in her chair, looking thoughtful, "nah. Wrangler? You always say Gomorrah."

"Only coz you never say Gomorrah," Cass pouted, but agreed nonetheless, heading off to gather up the rest of the group. The courier turned to Boone who had been sitting in the kitchen, but had, as usual, not contributed anything to the conversation. He was looking at her with _that_ look, the kind of look someone has when they're trying to work out a particularly challenging puzzle. "Wrangler?" Six asked, lightly, ignoring the expression. He continued to regard her, she sighed and turned away, so he'd figured out she knew. Now he was probably trying to figure out _how_ she knew.

It was a realization that had come to her gradually. The little things gave it away, though he tried hard, very hard, to keep it hidden. Whenever he was invited out, he'd usually ask where they were going first before he refused, or otherwise. If it was Gomorrah, he would _always_ pass. He'd pass on other places too, but he would sometimes venture to the Tops, the Wrangler (they generally stayed away from the Ultra-Luxe, preferring rowdier fare). He had never once stepped foot in Gomorrah. Sometimes as they drifted towards the more debauched casino after a night of hard drinking elsewhere, Boone would inevitably head back to the '38 pleading tiredness even though he could drunk them all under the table, and then some, if they were anywhere else. Then she'd noticed that the sniper, who looked everywhere all the time, always managed to avoid looking at the place, despite its obvious proximity to their own home.

It was when Six remembered what Boone had said about his wife, the first time he'd opened up about her, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He'd told her what Carla had said to him the first time they met, " _said I looked lost_..." Six would probably have said the same if she'd found the straight laced, fresh faced, NCR recruit surrounded by strippers, prostitutes and all manner of licentiousness. She wasn't sure if Carla was working there or just passing through, but Six was pretty sure she was the reason Boone wouldn't go near the place. She wasn't sure what he feared, what kept him away, but hell, if he didn't want to stand on the spot where he met his wife, Six wasn't going to force the issue, and if that meant disappointing Cass by always suggesting the Wrangler, she could deal.

They all trailed out, Cass and Veronica already more than merry, and started for Freeside. They were almost at the gate when Six realised Boone had fallen behind. She glanced back and saw him staring up at the huge frontage of Gomorrah. "C'mon Recon!" Veronica yelled, as Six jogged back to him. She expected him to be sad? Angry maybe? Desolate even, looking on the place that had started it all. Maybe he was, it was always hard to tell with him. But he didn't seem it. His eyes fell on Six as she reached him and he gave a small shrug in a gesture that might have meant, 'I don't know why I won't either,' or 'it doesn't look that bad,' or 'I think I could stand to try it?' or none of the above.

"Next time?" Six suggested.

He seemed satisfied, "next time," he muttered and his fingers linked with hers, and they turned together to follow their friends.  


	7. Serve them breakfast in bed

When Six awoke she was instantly aware that she wasn't alone. Someone was beside her, arms wrapped tightly around her and though she knew exactly who that someone was, she was somewhat alarmed that he had managed to position himself so, without waking her. That said, she always slept like the dead in the safe confines of the '38, knowing nothing would get past the front door, let alone into the suite.

She listened, in the distance Raul was snoring, ED-E was bleeping and Rex was giving the occasional sleepy whimper. Beside her Boone was breathing rhythmically across her ear, his breath making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She shifted her weight so she was facing him. Even though she had known who it was, seeing him for real, his arm thrown territorially over her, filled her with warmth. He'd been gone for a few days helping out the guys at Camp McCarran, as he was prone to do. He must have come home in the night, though it was unlike him to venture into her bed like this, without an explicit invitation. He must have missed her, the thought made her smile. Gently she pushed him onto his back and propped herself up on one arm, watching him sleep. He was gorgeous, she mused, her fingers trailing across his chest, a part of him that had always fascinated him; his muscles were as hard as iron but the skin that covered them softer than she had ever expected. Leaning her body against him, she kissed his jawline slowly, taking her time to work her way across it and down his neck. Boone grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake. A wicked grin known only to the darkness spread over Six's face and gently she eased the underwear he'd worn to bed away from his hips, sliding them out of the bed without disturbing him. Her fingers started teasing the almost erection she had revealed, and though he squirmed somewhat he remained asleep. She watched her hand stroking him, marveling at the feel of it, she shivered, God she wanted him.

Shifting her position she lowered her lips to the tip, tasting the salty sweetness of pre cum, allowing her tongue to dance over it. Her hand gently teased his shaft as she started to suck at the head playfully. He was rock hard now, his breath coming short gasps and the courier idly wondered what fantasy his dreams were concocting for him. Draping herself lightly over his legs, she started running her tongue down his entire length and back up again, "Six," the soldier moaned, his hands finding her hair even as he slept. She smiled, at least it was her he was thinking of. As his fingers tangled sleepily with her hair she pushed herself down, taking him entirely in her mouth, the tip of his cock slamming into the back of her throat.

"Six!" he gasped, suddenly awake, " _fuck_ ," he dropped back on the pillows and looked down at her, his eyes lidded only partially from exhaustion. Holding his stare she started sucking him off hard, never breaking eye contact. He threw his head back and groaned, a sound so erotic she could have come herself. His self control flew out the window with the noise and he dug his fingers into her scalp, forcing her down on him. His hips thrust upwards as he fucked her face, the tip catching against the back of her throat with every movement, while her hands massaged his thighs. His breath started coming out in ragged gasps, a sure fire sign he was close, Six smiled against him and slammed her throat down onto him giving his balls a gentle squeeze as he shot load after load into her, calling her name so loud he must have woken everyone in the suite. She licked him clean, sliding her way back up his body to be met with a sleepy, if not entirely satisfied, Boone, pinning her down beneath his weight. He kissed her, the taste of him still fresh on her lips but he didn't care. "Good morning," she giggled, drawing lazy circles across his back.

"Isn't it though?" he murmured against her neck, nipping lightly at her earlobes. His lips kissed and licked their way across her chest, tracing lower, lower...lower, looking to return the favor.  


	8. Organize a picnic

"Veronica, where the hell is Cass?!"

"Arcade?! _Arcade_?! ARCADE!"

"Rex! Down!  _Down_ boy!"

Boone took a long, long drag of the cigarette in his hand. Six was running around the suite, chucking things into her pack, throwing the odd thing at Boone to put in his own. He sat at the kitchen table, utterly detached from the proceedings. A box of snack cakes hit the side of his head and landed on the table. Six was at the fridge, staring at him, "A little help, Boone?" she asked, exasperated. He looked at the box, and with one hand slid it off the table into his pack, returning promptly to his cigarette. "You're  _so_ helpful," she groaned, rolling her eyes, "Guys, we're leaving in two! And I mean two!"

She darted out of the kitchen, Boone chuckled and started very slowly to sling up his pack and rifle. He would be waiting at the elevator after two minutes and not a Goddamned second before. He couldn't help but laugh to notice that Cass had the same idea, only Veronica, Rex and that bloody robot were waiting with Six. She looked around, annoyed, "ARCADE!"

\---

Boone had to admit that as crazy as her idea had been, this was... _fun_. The overgrown vault was almost beautiful; a little slice of greenery amongst the desert wastes. What creatures that lived there had posed no threat and Rex was in his element chasing them down and nipping them. He lay a few feet from Boone gnawing at a mantis leg with happy growls. They all sat around in the grass, utterly contented. Six's pile of snacks and food was enough to feed a small army, but they still put away the food with gusto, and a healthy dose of rad-x for good measure. Cass and Veronica were sitting together beside a flower bed, sharing a bottle of whisky. Arcade was studying the flora, strolling through the vegetation with a small smile dancing on his lips, rendered unusually quiet by the surrounding tranquility. Boone was sitting against a rock, his usual distance between the group enforced, though without the general atmosphere of ' _don't fucking talk to me_ '. He was sipping a bottle of ice-cold Nuka. It wasn't his first choice of refreshment but damn it was cool. He looked over at Six, who was lying in a patch of long grass and flowers, the beret he'd given her almost a lifetime ago pulled down over her eyes. He might have thought her dozing were she not also smiling, reveling in the peace of this place. She flicked the beret out of her face and reached for the sarsaparilla beside her. As she leaned up she caught Boone's eye. He smiled at her, a rare thing, and lifted the bottle in a toast to her. She raised her own bottle to him and beamed back.  


	9. Let your significant other know you love them despite their flaws

The presidential suite of the Lucky 38 was pretty spacious. It was the most luxurious place any of the inhabitants had ever had the pleasure of visiting, let alone live in. And that for free. Yet at times like this, it felt very small. Arcade stood in the hallway, wondering whether he should go to the kitchen, where he knew Six was doing all she could to not smash up the crockery, or he could go to the rec room, where Boone was brooding over a bottle, or two, and, from the smell of things, an entire carton of cigarettes. Veronica had disappeared the moment it became obvious that the the courier and the sniper had had an argument. Arcade was thinking she'd had the right idea. He could always retreat to the bedroom, but as of two days ago he shared it with Boone, and there was no guarantee he'd not end up stuck in the middle of what appeared to be a catastrophic fallout. Not that he didn't feel in the middle of it right now. He eyed the two options before him, before whistling for Rex and taking the third option. He could stand to stay at the fort for a few days, Six would come and get him when all of this blew over. She always did.

From the kitchen Six heard Victor announce the elevator. There goes Arcade, she thought. She didn't blame him. It couldn't be fun to share the suite when she and Boone had so obviously argued. Well...not that there had been an argument. Neither of them had actually spoken of it. But _it_ had happened and now she wondered how they could move on, if they even could. She closed her eyes and lay her head on the kitchen table, covering it with her arms as though she could shut out the world.

His hands had been on her hips, his lips at her neck, his member deep, deep inside her as he fucked them both into oblivion. It'd been a long week, they'd both needed it, barely making it into the elevator before their passion had gone up like a fire, consuming them both. She'd been against the wall in a heartbeat, foreplay out the window in their desperation for each other. As it had so many times in the past. "Boone," she'd breathed against him, "Oh God Boone..."

" _Carla_!" he'd flung his head back and cried out as he came inside her, thrusting steadily, even after the climax. Six had gone very cold, very quickly. Silently she'd pushed him away, dressing quickly, leaving him confused on the threshold of the elevator as the doors opened. He hadn't even known what he'd done. "That's not my name," she all but whispered as she moved from him, and she saw the horror on his face as he realized what he'd done.

They hadn't spoken since, though the necessity of close living required them to be constantly in each other's presence, or if not, agonizingly aware of the other on just the other side of the door. She groaned into the table, this was hell. When she had first taken Boone to her bed, or perhaps it was he who took her? Either way, she had known she couldn't compete for Carla's place in his heart, and she'd been content with that knowledge. She just wanted him to scratch that itch. Of course now she knew that somewhere along the line it became more than a fantastic fuck to combat the harsh living on the wastes. But that was hardly Boone's fault, and he had never misled her; Carla was the only woman for him. Granted, calling her name during a particularly great bout of elevator sex was probably not the most tactful thing he could have done, but thinking on it, Six was surprised it hadn't happened earlier.

The clink of a bottle caused her to look up. Boone had joined her at the table, sitting opposite her, taking generous sips from an almost empty bottle of vodka. He offered her the remains, she hated the stuff, but it seemed like it might help, so she chugged what was left, grimacing as the cheap liquor burned her throat. They sat opposite each other in silence, not daring to look at each other, both of them finding the table suddenly extremely interesting.

"Six," he said suddenly, "I'm... _Christ_...I'm so sorry."

She looked over at him, he looked terrible. _Really_ terrible. She frowned, if she didn't know him better she'd say he looked upset terrible. She could see the lines by his eyes; he hadn't slept, she knew he hadn't eaten anything and from the smell of his breath this was not his first bottle. He caught her eye, she hadn't thought he could look more depressed than usual, and yet she had never seen anyone look so forlorn. "I am _so_ sorry," he said. He looked like he might say more, but he closed his mouth, he probably couldn't have explained how he felt if he'd tried.

Six looked back at the table, she could tell him how she felt, she thought. She could take a moment and offer him everything she wished he would offer her. But from the look of him, he might already knew and maybe, she could dare to hope, felt the same. She couldn't imagine anyone looking this much like hell for anything less. Despite herself she smiled. She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. He flinched in surprise, but returned the gesture. The two of them sat there, stretched out across the large space between them, holding onto each other for some time. When Arcade returned later that evening, having forgotten to take anything with him when he'd made his getaway, he found them both there, still. He smiled at the sight of them, both sound asleep in what looked like the most uncomfortable positions over the kitchen table, their hands firmly clasped together.  


	10. Give them a massage after a long day

Boone wanted something, of that Arcade was absolutely sure. For the best part of the week, Boone had taken to standing before the doctor, looking at him expectantly and then, apparently thinking better of it, rushing out without saying anything. The sniper would then ignore the doctor for the remainder of the day, before the whole affair repeated itself on the morrow. Under normal circumstances Arcade would have just found Boone himself and outright asked what he needed. But seeing the usually so composed soldier flushing and embarrassed was just too amusing to cut short.

"No Boone, I'm not willing to act as a guinea pig for your sexual experimentation," Arcade announced, finally, as Boone stood in the guest room doorway, looking like he'd rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else. "You'll have to head over to McCarran, I'm sure you can find a trooper willing to indulge you."

Arcade swore he saw Boone's eyes bulge underneath his sunglasses, "I wasn't...I don't..." he stuttered.

Gannon was enjoying watching him flustered far too much, "I know, but whatever you need can't be worse than that, so tell me what you need."

The sniper's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, "I need a favor."

"I gathered,” he replied, dryly.

"That thing you do...for the girls...for their backs...could you show me how?"

He wanted to laugh, but Arcade knew that if he so much as smirked Boone would either run out of the room and never ask for anything again, or worse, break his face. "You want me to show you how to give a massage?" the doctor asked, careful to keep any amusement from his voice.

Boone nodded, his face as red as his beret. Arcade stood up and gestured for him to lie down on the bed he had just vacated. "Sure, but uh...it's a rather hands on job and...it'd probably be best if you took the shirt off."

He hesitated for just a moment, but reluctantly slipped the shirt off and lay face down on the bed before Arcade could so much as glimpse his perfectly chiselled physique. "Don't get any ideas," he growled as the doctor approached.

"Not a one," he smiled and set to work moving his hands expertly over the sniper's back. To his credit, Arcade remained absolutely professional. The generous amount of pressure he applied was accompanied by an explanation of how hard Boone could probably go and why certain areas needed a bit more care than others. For his own part, Boone lay surprisingly content, committing every motion, every word to memory."

"I'll be honest, Boone, I never had you pegged to be interested in this kind of thing."

The man on the bed shrugged, an altogether different sensation now that all the knots had been worked from his shoulders. "Six asks sometimes," he mumbles, "asks me to rub her back. Can't do it for shit..." he trailed off.

Arcade's hands stopped, "Oh," he breathed. "Oh...I see...Well if it's like that." He sighed heavily, "Look...I'm going to do something...else...just don't hurt me ok?" he pleaded. Before Boone could turn to look up, the doctor had straddled his rear and showed him an altogether different kind of massage.

Boone didn't hurt him. In fact Arcade's reward was threefold; a rather expensive looking vintage stashed into his foot locker, the sheer joy painted on Six's face as she positively danced her way around the suite the following day, but by far the most gratifying was the look on Boone's face as he watched her.  


	11. Do not criticize their friends or family

When Six had brought Rex back to the Lucky 38, Boone had thought him a welcome, if unnecessary addition. As much as he liked having the dog around he didn't quite understand why they needed one, but that didn't stop him allowing Rex to curl up most nights at the bottom of his bed. He hadn't been nearly as welcoming to the presence of Arcade, who frequently made jokes about joining Rex at the bottom of the bed. The doctor talked too much, tried to elicit conversation too often for Boone's liking, and he spoke Latin. _Fucking Latin_. Veronica was charming, but annoying. Cass was good for a laugh, though Boone was not one for laughing and Lily? Generally Boone gave her a wide berth. He could tolerate Raul who kept himself to himself, but he wouldn't consider them friends. As for ED-E, the way the robot buzzed around the suite was disconcerting at best.

He'd never say any of this to the courier, of course. Just like he'd never tell her how unexpectedly hurt he was whenever she deployed without him. He didn't trust any of them, not one of them, to have her back the way he did.

But now... He watched them all through his scope. Watched Cass and Veronica take out the legionary guards without breaking a sweat. Saw Rex tear up a Legion dog and face down another like it was nothing. Lily was beating down a metal door, Raul covering her with pistol fire so fast his fingers were a blur. ED-E's battle tones echoed around them and a nearby vexillary disintegrated into glowing ashes courtesy of Arcade. Boone picked off the stragglers, those who tried to line up shots against the party and even one who tried to flee, in time for Arcade and Raul to half carry Six from the cells.

Cass walked among the wounded, putting a bullet in the head of anyone not quite dead. Veronica was looting the corpses, Raul was keeping watch, scanning the surroundings continuously and Boone - Boone resolved that they weren't a bad bunch after all.  


	12. Thank them for every bit of love and care they give you

Really, this was just overkill on her part. She'd helped settled his problem at Novac, promised to help him kill legionaries and more than delivered, saved his life more times than he could count and now, without a word, the courier had moved the mourning sniper, she'd met in an oversized dinosaur mouth, into the presidential suite of the _Lucky fucking 38_. A place that no one had stepped foot in for a century or so, and now Boone lived in it. Unbelievable.

Six was currently standing on a table, pressed against the glass of the cocktail lounge staring out, agape, at Vegas stretched out beneath them. She glanced back at Boone, "can you believe this shit?"

He couldn't.

Who'd have thought the unassuming courier he'd only given the time of day to, and that tersely, because she was a stranger would lead them to this? Who knew a human being could have such a capacity for helping people? Endlessly helping people? He'd never have guessed she would have become his closest friend, closer than any of his recon buddies, closer than Manny, and as much as he'd hate to admit it, closer even than Carla. He'd shared with her things he had never shared with anyone, and Six had taken it all in her stride, understood and offered to help him in any way she could. Of course she had.

He stared at her, the graceful curve of her lithe body, the soft air that surrounded her now that she'd divested her armor and donned far more comfortable slacks, though she looked surprisingly bare without the 10mm on her hip.

He made a decision.

Stepping beside her, Boone took her hand and pulled her gently down from the window. She all but jumped down and smiled up at him, still beaming at their good fortune. He stroked a stray hair from her face and saw a flicker of confusion behind her eyes. When she opened her mouth to speak she found it covered with his. At first she hesitated, wondering when they'd made the switch from travelling companions who barely needed to speak, to kissing, but damned if this wasn't the best kiss she could remember. Even if it was the only one she could remember. She relaxed into it, parting her lips allowing his tongue to swipe hers, one hand pressed the small of her back, the other cupping her face so gently it could break her heart.

When they broke apart he wasn't smiling, he never smiled, but he stroked her cheek and observed casually, "don't think I ever thanked you," as though the dynamic of their relationship weren't forever changed.

"Hm," she was silent for a moment, contemplating the situation they found themselves in,"you wanna thank me again?"

He smiled, well...sort of, he looked slightly less impassive at any rate and leaning in, he kissed her again.  


	13. Appreciate and acknowledge their achievements

"Maybe he killed someone and he's covering up?"

"Oh yeah sure, cooking them and eating them is the best way Boone knows how to dispose of a body."

"You don't know!"

"I'm pretty sure I know _that_ much."

"What's going on guys?" the courier asked, finding Arcade and Veronica huddled around the kitchen, the door to which was unusually closed, though she could hear clear movement on the other side.

"Boone," Arcade replied, as though that were the only thing he need say, "apparently he fancied Legion for dinner," he added, rolling his eyes at Veronica. Six tried the door, only to be met with a barked, "out!" as soon as she touched the handle.

Veronica started hammering on the door. "Hey! Recon! I need to eat you know!" It swung open and Boone dropped a plate of squirrel sticks on the floor, before slamming it shut again.

"Well..." Arcade started, but couldn't think of something suitably sarcastic to add, so drifted off in the direction of the rec room. Six regarded the door for a moment, before shrugging and joining the doctor in a game of pool.

Rex smelled it first. He suddenly started barking and bolted to the kitchen door, sniffing and pawing desperately at it. Arcade sniffed the air, "what is that?"

Six lifted her nose and inhaled deeply, "is...is this what heaven smells like?"

The kitchen door opened. "Six!" Boone called. She all but dropped the cue in her haste to find the source of the divine smell. Boone had his back to her, kneeling by the oven, watching it intently. The kitchen table was a mess, a thin sheen of flour coated almost every utensil and a sack of yeast had been so carelessly discarded that its contents spilled over onto what looked like a pair of jury rigged weighing scales.

"What-"

"Ssh!"

Boone remained at his place for a moment longer, then in a series of swift motions turned the oven off, opened it and grabbed a cloth to pull out a tin.

"Holy fuck, Boone, did you bake bread?!" The sniper turned out a perfectly formed loaf and started slicing it. He flipped a piece onto a plate and held it out to her, his expression utterly unreadable.

Six inhaled deeply, the smell was like nothing she'd ever experienced. She bit into it and groaned loudly, "Oh my God Boone, this is the most amazing thing I've ever tasted. Guys! Guys! Come here! You gotta see this!"

Within moments the kitchen was teeming, everyone digging in with gusto to the miracle the first recon sniper, who once burned instamash, had created. They praised him until he was forced out of the kitchen, no one able to tell where his beret ended and his skin began.

The night found him, as it often did, on his back in the queen sized bed of the master bedroom, curled up beside the courier. "Share?" she asked him, unexpectedly. He looked down, she had saved the very last slice of his experiment and was holding half out to him. He tasted it, the first piece he'd eaten and had to admit; it was pretty fantastic.

"This is better than sex," Six moaned, savoring the final bite. A rare grin spread over his face and he pulled her towards him, showing her how dangerous such a comparison could be.


	14. Have a long and meaningful conversation

Arcade mentally kicked himself. Boone was far better a pool player than he, why had he bet so many caps? At this rate he'd have to ask Six to front him... _again_ , he mused as Boone potted another ball with ease. Probably his sniping sense, Arcade thought, he can see shots I can't. At least he looks good draped over a pool table. The doctor snickered to himself, not that he would ever say as much aloud, he valued his teeth too much.

Both Boone and Arcade looked to the door when Six stepped in, leaning in the door frame. She caught Boone's eye, he inclined his head ever so slightly, she gave a small gesture with her head, he raised an eyebrow, she lifted both hands in defeat and left for the kitchen. With a sigh Boone put down the cue, slid the caps he'd been so close to winning back to Gannon and followed her. Bemused and more than a little curious Arcade trailed him.

The sniper had picked up his pack and joined Six in the kitchen, both of them loading up their supplies. Six raided the fridge, every now and then holding up a box of something to Boone for his approval, though Arcade detected not even the slightest change in his expression, so how she knew what to put back or keep escaped him. Boone packed away some spare ammo while Six moved onto packing the basic utensils they took for longer journeys. He stared at her for a moment, she caught his eye and then with a silent 'oh' of realisation she returned the forks and left them there. Some bottles of purified water, attach bedrolls and they were done. They both slung up their packs, the courier's hand tapping Arcade's shoulder as she passed him in a gesture he assumed meant, _hold down the fort, see you soon, have fun, bye_. He watched them enter the elevator and Boone jabbed a button.

As the elevator doors closed Arcade stared after them, wondering what the hell had just happened.  


	15. Stargaze

Six froze. She held her breath and stopped moving. If she could have stopped her heart from beating she would have, as it was it was currently pounding somewhere in her throat. She was surprised all of the Mojave couldn't hear it. But the baby deathclaw passed within an inch of her and remained unaware of her presence. Six glanced down at her pip-boy, her stealth boy still had a few minutes. Her map told her that Boone was nearby, similarly cloaked; invisible for all intents and purposes. With the deathclaw at a comfortable distance, or at least as comfortable as it could get in these far too close quarters, Six lay the frag mines, armed them and stuck a couple of sticks of dynamite in for good measure.

The way back was clear and she trusted Boone to have fulfilled his role in the plan. She started back, keeping her eye on the brood around her, when she saw an opportunity she simply couldn't miss. Her route back took her past a couple of cranes and as many trucks. The quarry workers knew they'd have to replace a lot of their equipment anyway, she thought, after all deathclaws hardly knew to look after cranes. So she unscrewed the fuel caps along the way, letting the petrol gush out across the ground. Smiling, she left the quarry and jogged back to the rendezvous point, her stealth boy expiring just as she reached Boone. He was panting and scowling in equal measure, "this is the craziest fucking shit we have ever pulled," he snapped, "did you see that fucking thing?!"

"Big huh?" Six grinned, she'd not seen the mother, but had at least caught a glimpse of the alpha male.

Boone was running his hands over his beret, "of all the tasks you had to agree to, why the fuck would you agree to this?"

"We'll be fine," she assured him, though in all honesty she had no idea. She expected her half cocked plan to fail, but she hoped that she'd do enough damage that they could pick off the remaining death claws through the scope.

"Let's do this thing," she said, reaching into her pack and pulling out a handful of frag grenades. "I undid the fuel caps," she told him, happily as she arched her arm and sent a live grenade sailing through the air towards the chain of mines they had set.

"Wait, you did what?!" Boone shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar of the explosion. A number of things happened at once. The quarry lit up in a fiery blaze, the blast deafened them and mingled with the screams of burning death claws and then, the blast wave hit them. Six and Boone were flung a good few feet from their position, despite their distance, landing with a painful thud on their backs. Six's eyes fluttered open. All she could see was the night sky above her, the stars clearly visible on such a clear night.

" _Oh_ ," she breathed in awe of the sight. She'd travelled by night, but she'd always had her mind on other things, she couldn't afford to look up lest something she needed to be looking at caught her unaware and the stars were the last thing she ever saw. But now, with nothing to worry about she could gaze up and enjoy the view.

"Boone," she called, reaching out for his hand, "Boone, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah."

"It's so beautiful."

"Yeah," he paused, "you're a fucking idiot, Six."  


	16. Hold hands in public

Boone took the last drag of a cigarette, exhaled deeply and dropped its remains, crushing it under his boot. He seemed to smoke a lot more since meeting up with the courier, he mused. But that might be just down to her knack for finding cigarettes. He shifted on the spot, listening, though he couldn't hear a thing. He was waiting just inside the entrance to yet another Goddamn cavern, Six had asked him to stay put while she checked it out. Fine by him. He hated these caverns. Close quarters combat wasn't his thing, and the rocky tunnels were hardly made for sniping.

Still, she'd been gone a while. Another few minutes and he'd have to go looking for her. Not a prospect he particularly relished. He was hoping against hope that this one was small, that Six would find something or nothing and they could get the hell out.

A distinct roar rang echoed through the tunnels. Boone rolled his eyes and picked up his rifle, what the hell had she gone and done this time? Another roar. He stepped further into the tunnel but he wasn't entirely sure which direction she'd gone in. A third roar, "Boone!" he heard Six scream as she came hurtling around a corner, she grabbed his hand and pulled him, not slowing down for anything. She practically wrenched his shoulder out of his socket as he spun around with her, trailing behind her as he struggled to get up to her speed. She was not letting go of his hand though, she all but dragged him out of the cavern into the blinding, Mojave sun, but that wasn't stopping her. She kept at it, even when Boone was comfortably running beside her, she still wouldn't let go of his hand, giving him a harsh pull when she felt he was falling too far behind her.

The cavern was long behind them by the time she finally slowed. Six spun around, drawing her gun as she did so, but there was nothing following them, "oh thank fuck," she gasped, falling to her knees and panting. Boone sat down beside her, catching his breath back. He picked out his binoculars and looked back at the cavern, amazed at the sheer distance they had crossed without realising it. The cavern entrance was overrun by deathclaws, all looking for the intruders who'd been stupid enough to disturb them.

"Deathclaws," he groaned, "it's always deathclaws with you!"

Six was lying on the ground now, her breath coming easier. She opened her mouth to speak what he assumed would be an apology, but instead groaned and curled up, exhausted. "Fucking deathclaws," he murmured. He lay down beside her, panting heavily. It was only then he realized, he hadn't let go of her hand.  


	17. Give your partner time and space to play

The bathroom didn't have a door. Not the most pressing of concerns given that they had a bed, a defensible location and a cooker to actually prepare a meal. But the bathroom didn't have a door. Six wasn't entirely sure why this was a problem, but from the way Boone was staring at it in horror, she gathered that it was. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him take a piss before, and she wasn't going to stare at him while he took a shower, hell she could wait outside if it bothered him. He usually shut himself away when they found a place that allowed him to do so, had a shower and returned a little while later having washed all the tension he carried with him away. And he _was_ tense. He was wound tighter than she'd ever seen him, probably because they hadn't stopped anywhere that had a roof for well over a week. Maybe two.

His pack hit the ground with a thud and he gave an audible snarl of frustration. A witty comment about him not having anything she hadn't seen before died away as it suddenly hit her what the problem was. _Oh._

"I'm going to go out," she announced, suddenly. She felt his eyes bore into the back of her skull as she holstered her pistol, slapped on the beret he'd given her and arranged it with a practised flick, despite having never served. "I'll scavenge food...look around...or...something," she said, absently, "you uh...you stay here. Take a shower or something. Relax. I'll be back later with dinner. _Much later_. So you know...just relax."

Boone's face was a picture of confusion as she slipped out the door, not giving him a chance to protest or offer to go with her. He thought about going after her, but there was a certain finality to the click of the door, and a quick look out the window confirmed that she had indeed disappeared.

For a moment he wasn't sure what to make of it, but then the realization that he had the room to himself and she had stressed _much later_ , made him surprisingly happy. He let his armor fall to the ground with heavy thuds and turned on the shower. It sputtered at first, spitting out cold droplets of dirty water, but it soon settled into a light, lukewarm stream. Boone didn't care, he was already rubbing himself by the time he sat in the bath. He'd planned to think of Carla, intended to recall their first time, clumsy, drunken kisses giving way to a night of surprisingly tender lovemaking. But inevitably his mind wandered to the far more real figure of the courier, and it kept wandering. The way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the many glimpses of bare skin he'd had during their travels, the way her lips curved when she smiled. His cock twitched and he tightened his grip at the thought of putting her lips to an altogether more interesting use. He came quickly and quietly, remembering a time he'd had to dress a cut on her back and he'd spent far too long exploring her back under the pretence of bandaging it. Spent, he sat back in the shower, enjoying the feel of the water running over him and the afterglow of what had been a rather understated but pleasant climax. He was still thinking about Six. The thought struck him that she had all but replaced Carla in his old faithfuls, however much he tried to think on his wife. Maybe he was moving on? Maybe it was just easier to imagine his ever present and undeniably attractive partner.

He toweled off and had been reading on the unexpectedly comfortable bed for a while when Six returned, bearing what looked like a pack full of raided boxed food. She took in the sight of him lying across the bed so comfortably and smiled. "Feel better?" she asked, innocently, throwing a box of cram at him. She considered not making the joke, but he seemed to be in a considerably better mood, so she did it anyway, muttering softly as she started stocking the refrigerator, "must have been some shower."  


	18. Let them finish their point in an argument

' _Six! SIX_!'

Ouch.

' _Oh Jesus...you're going to be ok, you're going to be ok._ '

No I'm not, she thought. She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy. Her whole body felt...weird.

_'Stay with me, come on, you've had worse than this.'_

There was no pain, though she felt like there should be. She should be in agony. She should feel the trickle of blood seeping from her wounds, but she felt nothing of the sort. Just a warm, if tired, glow of contentment.

' _Where the fuck are the stimpaks?!_ '

Small pocket on the left. She wanted to tell him, wanted to point to the pack. She felt like she should be able to, if her body would just do what she wanted.

' _Christ Six, come on..._ '

Why did he sound so sad? He hadn't sounded sad a little while ago. He'd been trying to tell her something, she hadn't been listening. What was it?

' _Here we go, you might feel this, stay with me Six. Please_.'

They'd been fighting. Hadn't they? Something about geckos. He wanted to go a different way, this was too far south. But she wanted to explore.

' _There you go...dammit Six wake up_!'

You don't need to explore every damned path in the Mojave. It's just a path. It doesn't even go anywhere, it just circles around. Leave it. Something about geckos. Why hadn't she been listening?

' _Baby don't do this_.'

Baby? _Baby_?! When the hell did he start calling her baby? Why did he sound so sad? She was fine...if she could just open her eyes. If she could just remember why she was thinking about geckos.

' _Six? ...Please_.'

That's better. What the hell was with that 'baby' shit anyway?

' _Six_!'

Geckos!

' _No..._ '

She needed to tell him, she needed to tell him right now.

A pained gasp tore through her as she arched upwards, gulping down air, the Mojave sun blinding her as she forced her eyes open. Boone caught her as she crumpled back down.

"Geckos! Geckos, Boone," she babbled, "there's geckos down there, lot's of them! You gotta be careful!"

For a moment he stared at her and then he laughed, an exasperated, strained sound, " _idiot_!" he cried. Then he was kissing her and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why his face was so wet.  


	19. Don't sweat the small stuff

The kitchen had never been so tense. Even Arcade was lost for words. Nobody seemed to want to look at each other.

"She must have a reason...right?" Veronica's small voice broke into the heavy silence.

It was Raul who replied, "sure," he said, his voice dripping with his special brand of sarcasm, "I mean it's so like the boss to go off on her own. To the Legion Fort no less. She knows how you all feel about the Legion so she wouldn't go there without telling you first, you know, so there's no misunderstanding."

Boone's foot connected harshly with the table as he stood and stomped out of the kitchen, nobody stopped him.

He should trust her, he knew he should trust her. She wouldn't just stroll into the Legion Fort, meet with Caesar himself for no reason. Bile rose in his throat, why the fuck hadn't she told him?

He hadn't taken more than a few steps when the elevator dinged beside him. The doors folded back and Six stepped out, dusty and weary from the journey. Her pack sent clouds of sand into the air as it thudded heavily onto the ground, but it was the loud thump of Boone's fist connecting with her jaw that alerted the others to her presence, more so than her cry of pain. In an instant Cass and Veronica had his arms pinned behind his back while Arcade held her still so he could examine her quickly bruising jaw. "The hell is this we hear about you heading to the fort?!" he roared, shaking the girls off him. They stepped back but kept their eyes on him.

Six pushed Arcade away and rubbed her almost certainly broken jaw. "The fuck Boone?! _What the fuck_?!" He towered over her, suddenly seeming a great deal taller than he actually was,

"You. The Legion. Talk!"

With a look she dismissed the others, though they retreated warily, watching Boone as they filtered back into the kitchen. "I'm not working with the Legion!" she shouted back, "how could you think that?! After everything we've..." she broke off. Much better to just explain herself, "Benny went to the fort. I followed. I had to talk to Caesar to get close to Benny," she stared at him, defiantly,

"And?"

"Benny's dead," she said, coldly, as though she expected finally delivering justice to have been far more satisfying than it was.

He did not fail to miss the lack of emotion in her words, but he determined to keep his words brittle, "and the Legion?"

Her lips thinned into something that might have passed for a grim smile, "there's a boat in Cottonwood Cove waiting for us. It'll take us to the fort and we can clear them out."

"Us?"

"Wasn't about to go killing Caesar without you, was I? Get your gear, it's a long walk to the cove," she patted him on the shoulder as she passed him.

"Six!" he called, just as she reached the kitchen.

She glanced back. He felt very small. "Sorry...I..." _I should have trusted you. I couldn't bear the thought of you turning Legion. I was scared you wouldn't come back. I..._ "Sorry about your jaw."

"Don't worry about it."  


	20. Talk to them about fond memories

Given how close Novac was to Boulder City, there seemed little point in setting up camp between the two. And so, just nine days after leaving the town, new partner in tow, Boone found himself back there, sitting in her room, watching her like a hawk. Six hadn't said a word since leaving Boulder, neither had Boone, though his mind was reeling.

In the confines of her room, she'd stripped off her armor and slipped into something more comfortable, simultaneously raiding the fridge for dinner. Anything rather than face him.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, eventually, feeling like something had to break the silence. It might as well be him, she didn't look like she was going to say anything anytime soon.

"No."

Hesitating, Boone continued, "that guy. He said they shot you."

"Drop it."

"He said you were dead."

"Will you drop it?!" she snapped, "I don't pester you about your shit!"

He flushed and embarrassed, fell silent. She had a point. Since they'd teamed up any casual questions on her part had abandoned as soon as he'd asked.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Got no right asking you. Sorry." He busied himself with his pack, checking supplies, he should probably change too, maybe use her bath, didn't he have a pack of cigarettes in here somewhere?  
She sighed heavily and crossing the room, sat on the bed opposite him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped." She took a deep breath and before he could tell her that he didn't need to hear it, she was telling him everything.

Everything turned out to be not very much.

"The courier they're always banging on about on the radio? That's me. Shot in the head, buried by a guy called Benny who stole my package. The doc at Goodsprings patched me up best he could. Bullet's still in my skull and I've been following Benny ever since. Figure I might as well, it's all I've got now. Don't remember nothing else. All happened about a week before I met you."

He let her story sink in for a moment, "so you don't remember anything? Nothing before that?"

She closed her eyes. She remembered the figure standing over her. The beautiful, ornate markings on the pistol. _The game was rigged from the start._ The shot. The pain. The darkness. "No," she said, quietly, too quietly. "Strange as it sounds, Courier Six probably ain't my birth name."

"Guess not."

She went back to the cooker, while he mulled over what she'd said. He changed into something less dusty and left their armor soaking in a bathtub of abraxo. He cleaned his rifle, cleaned her pistol while he was at it, she cooked something akin to squirrel stew and poured out two bowls. They sat together but ate in silence. But when his spoon clattered against the bowl, having all but licked it clean, he started talking. Fair's fair.

"I met Carla on the Strip while I was on leave..."  


	21. Apologize when you're wrong

It wasn't personal, it was never personal. The situation called for a doctor this time, not a sniper. What would a first recon soldier be able to do with a contaminated water supply? How could an NCR grunt treat radiation sickness on such a large scale? Besides it was only in Freeside, what was he going to do, set himself up on top of The Wrangler and take pot shots at desperate junkies?

It wasn't personal. She just didn't need him right now, Six had been at great pains to assure Boone, with, Arcade noted, far greater thought that she did the others. Normally she just rocked in, stayed a few days before her and the first friend she made in the Mojave rocked right on out again, with only the obligatory farewells to the motley band that congregated in the Lucky 38.

" _I just don't need you right now_."

It wasn't personal. So why did Boone feel like shit? And why did the courier, following Arcade's directions to the letter, handing out purified water to the sick, keep looking back at the bright lights of the '38, visible from every point in Freeside, so mournfully?

It took almost four days to repair the damage; to the water system as well as the people. The Followers had worked flat out, Six with them, hardly sleeping, taking what rest they could when a quiet moment arose only to be harshly woken minutes later by the sound of some poor sod retching blood. That didn't stop her practically dancing on the spot as Arcade meticulously packed up his doctor's bag, desperate to get going. Nor did her lack of energy slow her down as she all but ran them back to the strip. "Presidential Suite," she barked at Victor, tapping her foot impatiently within the confines of the elevator as she watched the floor numbers light up with agonizing slowness.

For Boone's case he'd realized that she had been right and it wasn't as if he couldn't just pop over to Freeside to check on her- them- if he needed to. He was playing poker with Cass and Raul when the elevator dinged, heralding her- _their_ \- return. He was happy to know she was back, but he was also bluffing the hell out of Cass right at that moment, so his eyes remained fixed on hers, utterly impassive. The sniper would never find out if she was going to call or not, as the courier hurled her way into the rec room and threw herself at him, her lips colliding harshly with his as she locked her arms around his neck, with no intention of ever letting go. Boone had at least the foresight, when he saw her cross the threshold, to stand. He caught her as she slammed into him, forcing him against the wall behind him.

Cass giggled, Raul rolled his eyes and Arcade took Boone's seat, "uch, terrible cards," he said, folding the hand instantly, oblivious as to why that elicited such a squeal of delight from Cass. The game continued, though every so often one of them would look up to check on their companions. Nope, still there. Arcade wondered how long two people could actually kiss for, but they showed no signs of abating. Boone's hands firmly on the courier's hips, hers still snaked behind his head and both of them making out like they hadn't seen each other for months, oblivious to the world around them.

" _I just don't need you right now_."

How wrong could she have been?


	22. Trust your partner

The cell was cold, dank, everything that she would have expected from a prison cell, though she had never thought to have found herself in one. Six ran a hand over her head, her wound had stopped bleeding at least, she mused as her fingers came away clean, a shame that the knock still insisted on pounding so much. Beyond the cell door she could see the legionary watching her, taking in her every movement. She tried to sit up, but her head hurt too much. _Not good, Six_ , she thought to herself. She would need to be able to move if he decided to rape her, which given all the stories she had heard of the Legion, she imagined was pretty much a given.

At least Boone got away, she thought, resigning herself to the uncomfortable bed, if it could be called that. They were hitting a Legion raiding party, but they hadn't realized they had back up. Boone was safe enough from his sniping position, but Six had gone right into the fray, cutting them down where they stood using one of their own machetes. She'd been swamped as soon as the second party surrounded her. Boone was good, but even he couldn't keep up with the sheer number of them. They'd dragged her off, though from the sounds of it, Boone had kept firing. They hadn't caught him or he'd be right there with her, and though she would have loved to have had his company before being strung up on a cross, she was happier to know he'd gotten away.

The cell door opened, Six closed her eyes, she knew what was coming.

"The hero of the wastes?" the legionary mocked, he was coming closer. She wanted to sit up, to take him down with her bare hands like she knew she could. But the pain in her head was blinding. She couldn't move, however much she needed to. "The herald of tranquility?" he chuckled, he was practically on top of her now, his hands fumbling with her pants, she tried to squirm away but his fist smashed into the side of her face as she did so. Her head exploded into white stars, the pain was like nothing she'd experienced, even when she'd been shot in the head. At least then she'd been blasted into unconsciousness. Her arms went limp beside her, she was dimly aware that her sex was exposed, that he was rubbing his hands over it. Then just like that, the feeling was gone. Instead she felt a warm liquid spill over her legs and the cell was filled with the sound of choking and gurgling. Six looked up, the legionary's throat had been slit. Blood flowed freely from the cut, and behind him, Boone was looking particularly murderous. He dropped the body to the floor, kicking it out of his way as he knelt beside Six. She felt him pull up her trousers, then his bloody hand was on her face, "Six?" he asked, "Six, fuck, please tell me I got here before they..."

"Boone?" she gasped. Her vision was swimming, he looked like an avenging angel; his beret a halo of blood. She didn't think she had ever seen anything so beautiful.

"Are you ok?" he asked, "did they hurt you?"

"No," she automatically made to shake her head, but the pain forced her back, a whimper escaping her. "But my head..."

"Don't worry about a thing," Boone said. She felt the faintest of pricks in her arm and the sweet release of med-x flowing through her. She sighed happily, allowing herself to drift away on waves of blissful oblivion. Boone lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her from the cell. The way was littered with the legionaries he'd shot down from a distance. He'd tried so hard to get here earlier, but it sounded like he was still in time. Six murmured something in his arms, settling against his chest.

"I got you," he assured her, and despite himself he pressed his lips to her forehead.

_I've always got you_.  


	23. Never compare them to others

" _Mad about the boy_

_I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy_ "

Boone stirred in his sleep but woke quickly. He looked around, momentarily confused. Master bedroom. Queen sized bed. Six-shaped space beside him. Naked.

" _I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights_

_I've had about the boy"_

Six singing in the shower. He bent his ear, listening closely. She sounded ok, but it wasn't like her to not wake up beside him. Whenever Boone woke she would be with him, always smiling, as though she never expected him to be there.

Carla had never done so. An early riser Carla would be out of the bed, with half her tasks accomplished before Boone had graced reality, and it wasn't as though he were a late sleeper.

" _Lord knows I'm not a fool-girl_

_I really shouldn't care"_

He sighed and fell back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. She sounded ok, but the very fact that she wasn't here meant something. His fingers massaged his temples, God he hoped he hadn't called her Carla again...

" _Lord knows I'm not a school-girl_

_In the flurry of her first affair_ "

Carla had always been singing too. She had a beautiful voice. Hers was high and lilting, Six's voice was low and smooth. Still good, just different.

" _Will it ever cloy_

_This odd diversity of misery and joy_ "

He roused himself, kicking off the bed covers that remained over him. On the table lay a cigarette, a cup of coffee and his clothes; neatly folded. He smirked at the domesticity of it all, Carla usually had breakfast waiting for him, but he always had to get up first.

" _I'm feeling quite insane and young again_

_And all because I'm mad about the boy_ "

He slipped into the shirt, lit up and gulped down the lukewarm sludge that passed for coffee. He smoked the cigarette in a few short, long, hungry breaths before grinding it in the ashtray. Carla had made him quit when they got married. Six wasn't bothered.

The courier stepped into the bedroom, drying herself on some threadbare towels. Carla would have smiled and wished him good morning. He caught Six's reserved eye, there was no smile waiting for him. Shit. He'd fucked up. He opened his mouth to apologise, even though he couldn't remember exactly what he'd done. Carla would have given him hell, Six usually shrugged it off. Like now. She waved away his apology and gently pressed his arm, though she looked almost sad, as though she didn't want to be so forgiving but had no choice.

" _Mad about the boy._ "


	24. Tell your partner how proud you are to be with them

"No shit, Raul! I know what's easier, I'm not expecting this to be easy, I'm asking you for your help, I don't want you doing it for me!"

Boone's ears perked up, Six and Raul were arguing again. They'd been butting heads a lot recently, ever since the sniper and the courier had returned from Bitter Springs in fact. Which was weird, given that everyone had noted how much...lighter Boone seemed to be since they'd come back. Not that anyone knew where they'd been, or what they'd done. Six on the other hand had only gone out with Raul since then, but only on very short jaunts, always back by sunset, always snapping at the ghoul who held his own and snapped right back.

A string of Spanish expletives echoed around the suite and Boone gave into his rarely piqued curiosity. Raul was already in the elevator when he passed. Six was at the workbench in the kitchen the pieces of...something, strewn about it. She looked murderous. Boone regarded her for a moment, "you ok?"

"Fine," she snapped. He didn't pry.

This went on for a week or so, until Raul and Six came home one day after yet another secret escapade grinning like maniacs, and toasting each other with cold beers. Boone shrugged, he hadn't known what was going on anyway, it meant little to him that they'd apparently made their peace. So he was surprised when Raul, wielding what appeared to be a very, _very_ expensive bottle of absinthe, told him that 'the boss' had something for him upstairs.

Curious Boone rode the elevator to the cocktail lounge. He couldn't see Six, but he did see the rifle. For a moment it actually took his breath away. It had been set up on one of the larger tables, directly in front of the elevator like it was meant for him, which he assumed it must have been. He stepped forwards and admired it, hardly daring to touch it, even though it looked sturdy enough. He wondered if it would be betraying Carla to say it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Do you like it?" Six asked, making him jump, he'd forgotten she would be there. She sounded anxious.

In answer he took off his sunglasses, something she realized she'd only ever seen the few times she'd woken up beside him, so he could take a better look at it. She'd never seen him without them while conscious. He checked over every inch of it before he finally turned to her, "you built this?"

She shrugged as though it were nothing. As though she hadn't spent the last two weeks scavenging, bartering and trading for the very best parts, only to argue the toss with Raul about the best way to build a sniper rifle from scratch. "Raul helped," she said, then stared at the floor, "but yeah...yeah I built it."

He picked it up, holding it across his chest, it was considerably more comfortable than his NCR standard and lighter than he was used to. If he hadn't known that it was exactly the case, he might have said it was made for him.

"Why?"

"Think of it as...I'm really glad you found what you needed at Bitter Springs and I'm really glad you're around and I'm..." she sighed, "I'm just proud of you I guess, and I wanted to give you something. But you're really hard to buy for."

Her eyes hadn't left the floor, as though she were suddenly embarrassed.

"Couldn't buy me off with a bottle of absinthe?" She looked up at him, was that a joke? He really was different these days. He was almost smiling at her. "It's perfect. Thank you."

At the risk of prolonging the increasing awkwardness of the situation, Boone took the rifle towards the elevator, still enjoying the feel of it in his arms. "Boone," she called after him. He glanced back over his shoulder. "I meant it. I know how hard it was to go back there and...well I'm really glad you did."

She remembered Ranger Andy once told her Boone had always had a goofy grin around Carla, something she couldn't quite believe given the tight lipped nature of the sniper she knew. But the smile he turned on her was dazzling, and in that moment she couldn't help but wonder what kind of woman Carla Boone must have been to elicit that smile as a matter of course.  


	25. Make big decisions together

The local map on her pip boy bathed the courier's face in a warm glow, serving mostly to highlight the frown she had been wearing for some time now. On the other side of the tent Boone was making the most of Forlorn Hope's equipment and giving his weapon a thoroughly good maintenance. If they were going up against the Legion in the morning, he wasn't going to get caught out by a poorly kept rifle.

She sighed, "I think it might be better if we came in from the North...”

He wiped over the parts, using a small brush to get the sand, dirt and grime of the desert out of his faithful gun.

“You don't think so?

I guess it _would_ put the hostages in danger."

He breathed onto the scope and wiped it with a cloth, he could see his reflection in it, if he were the type to do so, he would have smiled.

"Yeah you're right, North is a bad move. The main road then?"

The rifle snapped back into place easily as he started slotting the pieces together. He took a moment to feel the weight of the stock in his hand as though he could detect any imperfections with his fingers alone.

"Not a fan? I don't blame you, the front door is probably the most obvious huh?

I guess I'm just worried about those poor bastards on crosses."

A final click and the rifle was reassembled, resting comfortably in his arms as though it were part of him.

"I know, I know. Damn I wish I had your optimism."

He shifted his position and brought his eyes to the scope, he could see perfectly.

"East then? If you say so.

They won't see us coming that way. Not that they'd see you anyway."

His finger rested lightly on the trigger, he'd sorted the resistance problem, he wouldn't have any troubles with it come the morning.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're right. East is our best bit for us and the hostages."

The rifle case snapped shut as he stowed it beside his bedroll.

"Thanks Boone, I couldn't do this shit without you."

He slipped off his shirt and slipped into his makeshift bed. He could hear Six moving to do the same.

"Oh shit-wait! If we're going in from the East, will we need more men?”

The bedroll was uncomfortable and scratchy, he grabbed the shirt from his pack and used it as a pillow.

“One more? You think? We could probably get that..."

He pulled the cover over himself.

"It can wait, you're right. You're always right. Thanks Boone.”

His eyes fluttered closed.

“Good night, Boone.”  


	26. Ask them about their day

She knew as soon as she saw him he'd had it rough. He was, if it were possible, holding himself even more rigidly than usual, his shoulders so tight they looked as though they might snap if he moved them. Six watched Boone leave the elevator from her bed, he didn't acknowledge her or even look up; rough day then.

The scowl painted on his face warned her that he hadn't made his target. The way he cast off his armor on the threshold of the bathroom, leaving it in a pile on the floor told her that the troopers he'd accompanied, as a favor, had had a near miss. He slammed the bathroom door and moments later she heard the trickle of what passed for a shower in the Lucky 38. Within seconds the pipes started clanking, as they always did when someone actually bothered to turn the hot water on. A hot shower, very hot given how much the pipes were protesting.

Not a near miss then.

Someone had died.

With a silent nod of thanks to...someone? something? Six felt the pang of guilt when she realised she was just glad it wasn't Boone who hadn't made it. She picked up his armor from the floor and beat out the sand, emptying what felt like the entire Mojave into the hallway. Oh well, someone else could clean it up. She examined it closely, but there were no stray bullet holes to be mended, no tears to sew up. She hung it, carefully, on a hanger in the sniper's closet. She listened. The pipes were still complaining, he was still in the shower, trying to burn away the regrets of what he could have done differently, they'd lost more than one then.

Six went to the kitchen, she and Arcade had restocked the refrigerator just the day before so at least she could offer Boone something halfway decent. She fired up the cooker, squirrel on a stick at least had some semblance of meat on it, so she threw that in the oven and heated up some instamash. While what passed as food reheated, she returned to the fridge, pausing to listen. The pipes had ceased their cacophony, Boone was silent. Toweling himself off, she thought. He wasn't trashing the room or throwing things at the wall; the evening could still be salvaged. She moved her hand from the bottle of whisky she'd been considering and settled for a far less potent red wine. The bottle was set, uncorked, without a glass next to the plate of food she'd rustled up for him when Boone stepped into the kitchen. He sat without a word and accepted the single cigarette she offered him.

She sat opposite him and watched. He ate, he smoked and he drank the wine with reserved glugs. Whatever demons he'd brought home with him he'd either drowned or scorched in the shower. She caught his eye at last, as he finished the last mouthful of mash and sat back into the chair. He raised the bottle to her in a silent, grim toast and drained the contents. Six smiled at him, and though he did not smile back, she swore his scowl softened slightly.  


	27. Support your partner in reaching their goals

Gomorrah was all but deserted in these early hours. Most had run out of chips long ago, passed out in the hallway after drinking themselves to oblivion or found themselves a pretty whore. Only the hardcore gamblers remained; well, the gamblers and the courier. Six was sitting at a blackjack table so tucked away, nobody would have noticed it. She'd had to slip the dealer an extra twenty just to open the table in the first place. But from here she had an unhindered view of the casino floor and, more importantly, the entrance.

She knew he was here. She'd seen him around, though he'd naturally set aside his rather distinctive armor identifying him as the highest of the frumentarii, in favor of a more adequate disguise. It worked too. Nobody, not even Boone, had noticed him walking around the Strip as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Six wouldn't have taken any note of him either; just another tourist trying to make it big at the tables, except, she'd recognized _that_ voice. Maybe it was because she had so few voices to remember that she picked up on it immediately, though knew enough to not give that fact away.

Boone had talked about the man called Vulpes Inculta many times, or at least many times for Boone, given how little he talked about anything, ever. In a way Six felt guilty that it would not be the sniper himself taking him down, but if she told him what she knew no force in the Mojave would deter Boone from tearing the Strip apart to find his enemy. He would be left a stain on the pavement, blown away by the securitrons, before he made it beyond the Lucky 38. It wasn't how she wanted to play this, but it was for his own good, she mused, not willing to acknowledge the desolation she felt when she imagined Boone's death. He might be angry with her for not telling him, but maybe she could find a way to make it up to him.

Vulpes Inculta had entered the casino, she could see him talking to one of the hookers, slipping something into her underwear, though she knew he wasn't buying. The hooker gave a slight nod and moved away, leaving Inculta to survey the room and move onto his next target. Six didn't take her eyes off him, careful not to be seen, she followed him around the casino and finally, with her hand firmly grasping the switch-blade she concealed beneath her casuals, out onto the Strip.

Thank God Boone was the only one at the Lucky 38 at the time. Six could only imagine the others' reaction to finding his gift prematurely. Boone himself said nothing at finding Inculta's head resting on his footlocker, save for a smirked, 'hm.' Six wasn't even sure what happened to the head after that, but Boone never mentioned it, so she didn't broach it. She was on the cusp of thinking that maybe she'd thought wrong, that he hadn't appreciated the gesture, when a few days after the event she'd turned in for bed and seen it. Resting on her footlocker was a key, Boone's unmistakable script tied to it, ' _Benny's suite._ '


	28. Flirt with them

Stop the bleeding, keep them warm, keep them talking.

_Stop the bleeding, keep them warm, keep them talking_.

First recon had only given Boone the base necessities of first aid training and he'd had little reason to ever employ it; snipers were, after all, hardly caught up in the brunt of the action. But now, as Six lay on the makeshift shack's frame of a bed, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound in her hip, what little medical training he had had taken over.

Stop the bleeding. The bullet had entered the very edge of her right hip and exited clean out the other side. Small mercies, Boone thought, as he desperately tried to stem the flow using whatever scraps remained in this place. One one hand he didn't have to deal with a stray bullet, or any damage to her internal organs, on the other, the hole was just leaking blood and by the time Boone had dispatched the gun-slinger who caused it, the courier was already on the ground. He had loaded her full of stimpaks, too many in hind sight, but that wouldn't hurt her. A shot of med-x for the pain and he made a passable job of stitching the wound up, if she hadn't lost too much blood she should recover.

Keep them warm. That wasn't a problem. Patrolling the Mojave almost made him wish for a nuclear winter, and the shack's tin roof only served to keep the room unpleasantly warm.

Keep talking to them. Great. Words had never been his strong suit, or even his suit, he'd always relied on his actions to tell people what he needed them to know. His rifle for his enemies, his surprising prowess around a cooker for his friends and his body for his lovers...well... _lover_...well...Carla. But with Six in the balance, he really needed to keep her grounded, needed to get out of his own head for a minute.

He glanced around the room, as though afraid someone might overhear him, and gave her a little shake. She'd been conscious if not responsive and he saw her eyes struggle to focus on him. “Hey,” he said, gruffly, then cursed himself, ' _say words, Boone'_ , “hey, come on you gotta stay awake. I know I've done a piss poor job of sewing you up, Gannon'll have my head when we get back to the '38 but I'm damned if I'm trekking back to tell 'em you bought it coz of some cock-sucker gun-slinger with a lucky shot.”

Her eyes flickered into focus as she blinked a couple of times. Then she laughed, but winced from the motion and ended up coughing, “Craig Boone. Talking. Think that's a record. I've died and gone to heaven.”

Relieved, Boone looked around the shack, “pretty poor idea of heaven.”

She tried to sit up, but the pain kept her down, “I dunno. You're here.”

He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, unable to think of a single thing to say. _Dammit_.


	29. Go on a date

His tux was a gift from the White Glove Society in appreciation for the...uh... _matter_...Courier Six had resolved for them. Her dress was a bitter-sweet present from Private Morales, a small thank you for retrieving her husband's body. She'd worn the dress on their first date and then again when Esteban had proposed, so she'd given it to Six in the hope it would bring her as much luck as they'd once had.

Their table at the Aces was the very best. Tommy Torini greeted them and offered them a bottle on the house, it was after all, down to her that every other table was full. As the Lonesome Drifter took to the stage to perform he dedicated a song to 'the courier and her date,' for finding him such a sweet gig.

They hit the tables at Gomorrah, winning not inconsiderable chips until the greeter found them and tempted them away with two complementary steaks. They toasted their luck, though Six insisted it was because she always bet on red, for Boone's beret, she joked, chuckling that even in a tux he wouldn't take it off.

They slipped through Brimstone and stepped into the courtyard, though Boone was reticent to head for the prostitution den. He changed his mind when he saw the tent, set aside from the others, lit all around by tiny candles; a thank you from the girls for all she had done for Joanna.

"Tonight was perfect," Six breathed as the silken flap fell behind them, shielding them fro the world, "everyone here is so nice."

Boone smirked, she was oblivious that everyone just wanted to thank her; probably the nicest person in the wasteland. He didn't say anything though, instead he settled for slowly peeling away the dress, kissing every inch of her bare skin as it was revealed. He made love to her with agonizing tenderness and when she begged for release, he lovingly obliged, all he could give in thanks for all she'd done for him.


	30. Never go to bed angry

Boone was angry.

Scratch that, Boone was positively fuming.

Six knew why, but she hadn't quite figured out a way to broach it with him. They were the only ones in the suite. Arcade had muttered that he was pretty sure he had some work to do at the fort and to call him when Boone wasn't so... _murderous_. Cass had followed suit after Boone had almost taken her head off with his rifle...in the kitchen...for dropping a fork. She'd taken ED-E with him, knowing that if the flying robot happened to make the wrong noise at the wrong time Boone wouldn't hesitate in putting him on the scrap pile. Meanwhile Rex had taken a cowering position in the rec room, under the pool table, whimpering every time the sniper came into view.

It was a good few days before Six could bring herself to approach him. She'd been tiptoeing around the suite, purposely avoiding him, rushing in and out of the room when she knew she wouldn't bump into him, and living off the bag of snacks she'd stashed, so she wouldn't have to face him in the kitchen. For his part Boone would never approach her room directly, he always waited for an invitation, and with him stalking around the apartment waiting for Six to appear so he could probably blow her away, it was not an invitation she was likely to extend.

On the third day she plucked up the courage to leave the door without listening for him first. Partly true, she had at least noted that he'd given up on stomping and had settled somewhere. When she found him he was sat at the kitchen table, having a good go at not his first bottle of whisky.

"Boone?" she asked, tentatively.

"Fuck off."

He clearly hadn't give up on the idea of shooting her. "Look, Boone, I'm really sorry. I didn't think..." she broke off. She hadn't really been thinking clearly at the time, she just saw an opportunity and took it. At the time she thought it had worked out, it was only afterwards that she realized maybe it hadn't been for the best, "I got the job done," she said, defiantly, though she didn't exactly feel it, "Benny's dead, yeah?"

Boone glared at her, she hadn't fooled him, "did you have to fuck him first?" he spat. Six couldn't keep eye contact, even though his expression was only half readable, hidden as ever by his shades. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't think...I should have thought."

"Yeah," he spat, draining the bottle before him, "you should've." He slammed the bottle down and made for the door. She moved to block him, determined to resolve this lest she had to spend another three days living on gum balls and snack cakes.

"Move."

She met his eyes, why did he have to look so hot when he was angry?

"Move," he said, again. He was losing patience.

She didn't move. So he made her. He shoved her back against the door frame, the gasp of pain barely escaping her before he claimed her mouth, roughly with his. He was pressing against her so hard she wondered if he intended to crush her. Despite herself she moaned into his kiss, he bit down on her lower lip and she tasted blood. They'd been rough before, but never like this. He meant to punish her, she thought, as he tore at her pants, ripping them from her as though they had never been. "I'm sorry," she gasped again, wrapping her legs around his waist, he made short work of his belt, lowering his own trousers just low enough to release his cock.

"Shut up," he snapped, thrusting inside her, without preamble. She cried out, though not entirely from pain as he slammed into her. Somewhere inside him he knew that he should stop, that he wasn't himself. But he knew as she cried his name, her sweet warmth pulling him deeper inside her, that he had already gone too far, and nothing, not even another nuke would stop him.

He'd make her forget all about Benny, he thought, the idea renewing his anger at the dead man, his fingers dug into her so hard she'd be bruised for weeks. He could feel the pressure building within him, Six was beside herself, writing against him as he continued to force her against the wall. She all but sobbed his name as she came around him, the spasms within tightening enough to finish him off and he cried out against her as he joined her in her climax.

The two of them were breathless, panting, gasping for air. He let her go, forcing her to steady herself against the wall. Boone surveyed the damage. She looked like she'd been rolling with a deathclaw. Her hair was mussed, her lip bleeding, angry purple bruises starting to bloom on her arms, neck, hell he didn't even remember biting her shoulder but the marks proved otherwise. Suddenly he wasn't angry anymore. She winced as she pulled her trousers up, her back had taken quite the pounding against the wall, he could see parts of the wallpaper starting to crack from the force he had pushed into her.

He wasn't angry anymore. He suddenly felt very small. Six looked up quickly, sensing the change. Before he could turn away, she had her lips locked on his. "I'm sorry," she said, again, "you're all I want," she whispered. She hoped the way she spoke into his face, holding his eyes lent her an air of sincerity. He sighed, pulling her against him, stroking her hair, tenderly.

Benny had done this, she mused silently, though she knew better than to ever tell Boone what had gone on in the Tops. Benny had been, in many ways, better, but in all the ways that mattered not a patch on her brooding sniper. And when Benny had reached for her in the night he'd been met with a pillow, forced against his face. She looked up at Boone's face, it had relaxed at least, they'd move on from this even though from time to time he'd wonder... but she didn't have to think on that right now. Taking his hand she led him to her room and spent the night showing him how little she thought of Benny.  


	31. Let your partner know when you miss them

Six checked the door, one last time, for the umpteenth time. It was solid, nothing was getting through it. It was the only way into the basement, besides if something did manage to break through it, it would raise holy hell in doing so and she would be awake long before she could get hurt. Ghouls weren't that clever to break down the door anyway, and she had killed every one she had seen so far. They couldn't get in here, she repeated to herself. Assuming they managed to break into the building in the first place, they would have to find the basement door and then they'd have to break that down.

She was safe. Thoroughly safe. Safer in fact than the usual open plains in which she usually sought camp. One more time, she thought. Running her hands over the door, making sure that it couldn't open on it's own. "Go to sleep, Six," she told herself, sternly. She left the door, leaving a couple of frag mines behind her, just to be sure.

She'd already set up her bedroll in the corner of the basement, though given how warm the radiation suit was she doubted she'd need it. She curled up, as best she could, against the bulk of the suit, the only thing protecting her from the fallout that permeated the camp. Her eyes fell on the door, and she knew that she wouldn't sleep tonight.

One radiation suit, she cursed. Why did they only travel with one radiation suit? And why did that sergeant maintain an outpost on the outskirts of an irradiated camp without a spare suit...or any suit for that matter?

Her eyes did not move from the door. There was a time when she would not have thought twice about setting up camp and bunking down for the night, hell she'd camped in far more open and dangerous places than this. But that was before. She'd taken it for granted just how long it had been since she'd been alone. Boone was always beside her, she could always sleep soundly, knowing that the sniper was nearby and nothing would get past that scope of his. A sigh escaped Six's lips. She knew she wouldn't sleep tonight. Neither would Boone, she thought, her thoughts now firmly dwelling on the companion she'd left, after a great deal of protesting on his part, at Astor's outpost. He'd be out there, somewhere. He'd have found a spot from where he could survey the camp without frying his insides and would be watching it, all night if he had to, until she returned. He worried about her. No more than she worried about him. They'd been travelling too long together now to claim otherwise.

Six could practically see him, unmoving, his eyes never leaving the scope, looking for any threat to her. The tightness in her chest was new. The ferocity with which she yearned for his company surprised her too. What surprised her more was the sudden dampness she found when she blinked her eyes. " _Oh_ ," she murmured, as tiredness overcame her and she gave herself over to half a sleep.

When she woke she made short work of hunting the remaining ghouls down and reclaiming their dog tags. She had no desire to remain in the camp for another night. With the last of the tags hanging from her belt, she took off, heading back to the tent that passed for Astor's base. She knew where Boone would be, she had seen the spot she would have chosen on her way in, and who had taught her what to look for when choosing a position?

Six saw his movement as she emerged from the green haze, taking off her helmet as soon as it was safe to do so and gulping down the fresh-ish air. Boone met her at the camp, but it was not until after she had handed the tags to Astor and removed the radiation suit that she saw him relax. Almost imperceptibly the tension he hadn't acknowledged carrying left him, his muscles relaxing, even his frown softening. Without a word they fell into step and made the long journey back to the Lucky 38.

They hardly spoke, as usual, save to discuss tactics, neither of them would ever mention how glad they were that the other were ok. Back on the strip they fell into their usual pattern of drinking and gambling, as they would until Six decided they needed to go back out again. She disappeared a couple of times during their stay but Boone didn't mind, at least that's what he told himself. As long as she came back before nightfall and didn't venture beyond the strip he could kid himself that he wasn't waiting with bated breath until she came back.

It was when they packed up to set off again, a few weeks later that he saw it. Folded neatly in his footlocker - a radiation suit.  


	32. Start a hobby together

"Just gonna give Cass a hand bringing up the supplies," Arcade called, "coz you two are _so_ busy."

Boone didn't look up from the magazine he was reading, nor did Six move from measuring gunpowder into cases. But the doctor's blonde head had barely disappeared into the elevator when she dropped the case she was holding and made a beeline for the rec room. By the time the doors had fully closed, she was pinned against the wall, Boone's lips somewhere in the hollow of her neck.

As the doctor stepped out on the ground floor, Six's hands were expertly loosening the sniper's belt, grasping his already impossibly hard cock and freeing it from the constraints of underwear.

Arcade surveyed the sheer amount of stuff Cass had brought back with her and sighed. Twenty two floors above them Six wiggled out of her own pants and sighed.

With surprising care, Cass and Arcade started loading boxes into the elevator, around the time Boone pulled Six away from the wall and pushed her over the pool table, thrusting into her with no warning, causing her to cry out.

"You say something?" Arcade asked, but Cass just shrugged, dragging a crate of sunset sarsaparilla into the lift and jabbing a button.

The 'ding' of warning from the ground floor spurred them on, Six started thrusting backwards against him, while Boone picked up the pace, slamming her into the side of the table with each motion.

The supplies were halfway to the suite when they came, Six with a soft whimper that might have been his name, might have been nothing, Boone with a satisfied grunt. Neither bathed in the afterglow, he pulled out quickly and rearranged himself. Six fled from the room, pulling her trousers back on as she stumbled, her legs like jelly, into the kitchen.

Arcade and Cass stepped out. Boone was still reading his magazine, Six was sealing a bullet. The doctor looked from one to the other, and muttered, "unbelievable." 


	33. On special occasions order decorations to their office

Raul stared at the teddy bear, his hand on it's leg, wondering just how it had found its way into his footlocker. "You move it, you lose a finger," Boone's gruff voice called from the bathroom, though how he knew what Raul was doing given that he wasn't in the room, the ghoul could only guess. He shrugged and closed the locker. Veronica had found three in her wardrobe the previous week, Cass had found one in the desk drawer where she hid her stash; the guest room was all but infested. They might have mentioned it to each other, or the courier, but Arcade's decision to walk around with the bear he had found in his doctor's bag, on his shoulder, had seen Boone ask him, with excruciating politeness featuring an unmistakable air of ' _I will kill you, painfully, if you ignore me_ ,' to put it back. Now. Since then they had learned to accept the random bears appearing in the guest room, occupying any and all spaces.

And then just like that they were gone. Six had gone out for the day to do nothing in particular, but as she wasn't leaving the strip she went alone. The moment she disappeared into the elevator Boone had dug out every bear he'd hidden and carefully started arranging them into sitting positions on the couches in her room. The others crowded the doorway, watching him silently, wondering what the hell he was doing, why the hell he was doing it and how the hell he managed to hide _that_ many bears.

They hadn't been to _that_ cave. The cave where they had found the long decayed skeletons of a family, child included. Beside the kid was a toy car and a frayed teddy bear. Six had frozen, staring at the bear. When Boone had asked if she was ok, she'd started crying. The shit she'd seen, the things she'd done and she was crying over a teddy bear? She couldn't explain it, she tried, but Boone didn't understand why it mattered that the bear, that had meant something to someone once, had been _alive_ to someone once, was just forgotten in a cave. He imagined it had triggered some distant feeling in her lost memories. It was easier to understand like that. She took the bear with her, kept it close, until it got torn up by a coyote that got into her pack overnight.

She'd cried again.

Boone hadn't finished arranging them when she returned. The others scattered as she stepped out of the elevator a bemused, though wary, ' _the hell are you guys doing?_ ' when she saw them all crowding her doorway. She stopped when she saw him, a small 'oh' of surprise forming at her mouth. He handed her the bear he was holding as he passed her, "Happy birthday."

For a moment she just stared at him, "but...I haven't got a birthday..."

"Thought you needed one. Today felt right."

He stepped into the elevator and was gone, heading for the Wrangler. He didn't want to be there when she inevitably figured it out. Six sat among the teddy bears, rearranging them lovingly so they didn't look like troops being paraded for inspection. When it hit her, she dropped the bear she was holding on and stood up so suddenly she threatened to dislodge them. It was a year to the day she'd been to Novac and stepped into the mouth of the dinosaur for the first time.


	34. Go for an adventure together

Craig Boone hadn't thought much of the courier's offer when she'd made it. Why not travel with me? she'd suggested. He had half a mind to turn her down but then, what the hell? Why not travel with her? She didn't look up to much, so in a couple of days she'd either be dead or have ditched him anyway. Neither option particularly bothered him, and if in her rush towards certain death she got him killed in the process...well...that didn't bother him either.

If she expected conversation or comradeship she'd be mistaken. All he intended to bring to the table was good aim and passable gecko steaks. As for her, she surely couldn't make good on her promise to fight legionaries. She looked too slight, too imposing to stand up to the brutality of the Legion. Leather armor and a 10mm, what the hell good would they do against a slaving party or worse, an assassin? She'd last a couple of days. At best.

His doubts were put to rest within a day of leaving Novac. He'd heard her asking around after that smarmy ass in the chequered suit and the Khans with him. He knew she needed to head to Boulder City, but upon leaving the town she turned South instead. Boone hadn't cared enough to ask where they were going.

Just two hours later, under the cover of darkness her first legionary was dead. True to her word she led him faithfully to a Legion slave camp, a stone's throw from a Ranger outpost, just yards from a group of disinterested troopers, patrolling. Her 10mm had been just fine. She untied the powder gangers they'd captured and told them to go back to the general stores at Nipton. When she looked at Boone, he almost felt like apologizing to her, but she just smiled and tapping his shoulder as she passed, she led them back onto the road North.  


	35. Do chores together

"Dammit!" Six's curse rang out through the presidential suite. From the other side of the apartment Boone heard her, but he barely looked up. He was meticulously cleaning his rifle and wasn't about to leave it in pieces on the table, so he did the only reasonable thing he could think of, and ignored her. He had just finished placing the scope back in its case when he heard a small smash followed by more cursing. Rolling his eyes he went looking for the courier, wondering just how the hell she'd managed to find and/or cause trouble in her own home.

"Six?" he asked, stepping into the kitchen, "are you-what the hell?" he laughed, despite himself. Courier Six, the hero of the wastes, scourge of the legion, was at the sink, drying dishes. Far more amusing was her outfit; Boone had only ever seen her in armor of some kind, yet here she was in a dress. Not just any dress, one of those actual pretty dresses from before the war. He'd never in his wildest dreams imagined her wearing such a thing, and he'd imagined her wearing and not wearing a great deal.

"Shut your Goddamn mouth," Six snarled, stacking the plates.

Boone tried to keep it in, but the opportunity to mock her was too much, "pink suits you," he chuckled.

She glared at him, "I put all my clothes in for cleaning," she snapped, "forgot to keep something back, this was the only thing in Veronica's closet. Now stop staring at me and clean that up," she pointed to a broken plate near her feet, no doubt the source of the earlier smash. Boone casually threw her a mock salute and set to clearing away the shards. Six started placing the dishes on the shelf, between the motley crew that flitted in and out of the Lucky 38, a dog and a robot the place could get pretty cluttered and even though there were bots to clean up after them, she liked to do it herself when the place was empty. It made her feel...normal, if there were such a thing.

She moved from the shelves to start laying the table. For someone who had no memory she certainly had a weird nostalgia thing for a set table. Clearing the last of the remains Boone looked up, and snorted before he could stop himself. Six looked down at him, "what?"

"You put all your underwear in the bath too?"

For a moment she looked confused, then she flushed bright red, "shut up," she hissed, pushing him away with her foot. He was laughing now, and couldn't bring himself to stop, not even when she smacked a broom into his chest. Chores weren't all bad.

 


	36. Take a class together

It was completely reasonable to expect her to be able to concentrate on what Boone was showing her and not _how_ he was showing her.

Completely reasonable.

Yet the courier's mind was having a hard time keeping her thoughts on track, especially as he had the audacity to look so damned good, lying in the dunes, demonstrating the proper posture for sniping. He looked like he'd been carved from something, holding himself rigid as he gazed through the scope, one leg kicked out for balance.

He rolled onto his back, "you try," he gestured for her to take his position.

Oh sure this would be easy, she thought, she'd listened carefully and watched him intently and if some...well... _most_ of what he had demonstrated had been lost in a hazy fantasy of draping herself across him then that was entirely his fault.

Six lay down on the dune, aware that Boone had not gotten up and was so close her skin positively tingled. She raised an eye to the scope, clutched the rifle and tried to brace herself against the sand as he had shown her. It was far more comfortable than she'd expected, actually, but his proximity to her was sending a frustrating amount of heat to her groin. "Concentrate," he snapped, aware that her thoughts had drifted, though probably oblivious to their location. She shook her head, as though that could shake out the treacherous images and instead focused on staring through the scope.

A strange change came over her. She was only aware of the scope, nothing else existed. Against the warm sand her body practically melted into the surroundings, she was invisible. She could stay here forever, waiting for something to cross her sights, she could take the shot, they would die, and they would never know what took them.

"There," Boone murmured, smiling internally at how her breathing had slowed, her body relaxed against the rifle and she let the scope do the work. Six would swear blind that she would have been fine, had Boone not chosen that exact moment to subtly shift parts of her into a better position. A slight tough to relax her elbow, a small nudge to bend her knee and then he leaned over her, his chest across her back to shift her opposite arm. Reflexively, she pressed up against him, an unexpected sigh escaping her lips. A moment was all it took for a plan to form in his mind and he leaned in to her ear, "there's a bark scorpion just over that ridge," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, "see if you can take it out."

With a soft groan of protest she lowered her eye back to the scope and scanned the dunes for her target, agonizingly aware that Boone hadn't moved from her back. She glimpsed the scorpion, Boone felt, rather than saw, the small changes in her muscles that told him she was lining up the shoot. He hadn't expected her to find it so quickly. She soon lost her place as his lips found the nape of her neck, leaving soft kisses that sent small shocks through her body. He gently blew across her skin and felt the tremor ripple through her body, but as he had commanded, her eyes never left the scope.

Boone slid his way down her body, straddling her rear so he could massage her back under her shirt. Thank God I didn't wear armor, she thought, her mind at odds with itself, one part desperately trying to ignore him and find the sandy colored scorpion against a wall of sand, while the other just wanted to give into the sniper's ministrations. Warm air caressed Six's back as he lifted her shirt to reveal skin, skin upon which he traced lazy circles with his tongue.

Found it, she thought, lining up the shot again, God why did that have to feel so good? He peeled away her pants, exposing her ass to the desert, but she had no thought for modesty as he lowered a finger and started rubbing her through her underwear. The contrast between having a task to do and the sniper's hands were driving her insides into a frenzy and she cried out as he slipped a solitary finger inside her. She shifted the rifle's position ever so slightly to get a better view of the scorpion, though how she managed to keep her mind even vaguely on task as another finger started massaging her, escaped her.

From his vantage point Boone admired her restraint, taking a moment to purposefully flick her clit in the way he knew she loved. Even though she hadn't moved from the rifle, her hips had started grinding against him, though he doubted she was aware she was even doing that.

He removed his fingers and ignored her audible moan of disappointment. Deftly he undid his belt and lowered his pants, allowing his considerable erection to spring free. He stroked himself for a moment, rubbing her juices all over him, aware that she had no idea what he was doing. The small gasp of surprise that shot from her mouth, when she felt the head tease at her entrance, was one of the sexiest things Boone had heard in a while, and with one deft thrust he pushed himself all the way in, pressing down on the back of her hips to keep himself balanced. He took his time, each thrust a patient and measured expression of precision. Despite the pace, she was building around him, he felt her tighten around his cock as he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into her, one finger still dancing against her nub.

The gunshot when it came confused him, he'd almost completely forgotten why they were there, but he was too far gone to so much as hesitate and in moments she was coming around him, her breath coming out in short gasps as she abandoned the rifle to rear up against him, pressing herself back against him. One more thrust and he came too, the twitching of his member as he shot a load into her eliciting a 'God yes,' from her.

Boone stayed there a moment, leaning down to kiss the hollow of her neck before pulling out and rearranging themselves. "I hope you don't intend on teaching Cass to snipe like that," Six said, suddenly territorial. He smirked and helped her to her feet, but said nothing. She knew better than that.

"We should get back," he said, the desert sun fading fast. Six nodded and turned to clear up their things, kicking sand over the evidence of their exertions. Boone leaned down to pick up the rifle and happened to glance through the scope. Almost a mile away what remained of a bark scorpion decorated the Mojave.  


	37. Wake your partner with kisses

After everything they'd fought; Legionaries, fiends, deathclaws...it had all come down to one man with a gun. Six was helping a man, a man who it turned out hadn't wanted to be helped. Not everyone in Freeside did. Boone had seen the gun before she had and he shoved her, harshly aside, exposing his stomach to the shot.

Blood.

So much blood.

She would have killed the man there and there but she was distracted by the blood. Somehow she composed herself and summoned the strength necessary to drag the significantly heavier sniper to the Mormon fort.

The doctors were working on him now. Six sat, perfectly still, in a separate tent, waiting. She held herself rigid, not allowing her muscles so much as a twitch of relaxation. If she did, she knew she'd dissolve into a mess on the floor.

So much blood.

More blood than she'd ever seen in her life, dead legionaries, fiends and deathclaws included. And what was she to make of the way he'd pushed her aside? Taking the bullet for her? He could be dead. Boone could actually be dead, for her sake. It was a thought that left her chest horribly constricted.

Julie Farkas approached her, yet the courier didn't look up. She didn't want to see the look on the doctor's face, didn't want to see the news before she broke it. "He's going to be ok," Julie said, gently. "He's lost a lot of blood. _A lot_ of blood, but his blood type is fairly common, though he has depleted our supply of blood packs," she added, meaningfully. Six reached into her pocket, expressionless, and pulled out a pouch of caps. She dropped it onto the table beside her. _He's going to be ok_. "If you want to see him, you should go now, he's just about conscious."

Rising, Six crossed the fort to the tent where Boone was resting. A doctor was spreading sand over the bloody floor, while another was injecting stimpaks with seeming abandon into Boone's arm. He almost smiled at her when she stepped in. She stared at him, silently, hardly daring to believe that he was actually ok.

So much blood.

"Hey," he said, weaker than she'd ever heard him, his eyes barely open.

At the sound of his voice the tears she'd been holding back spilled over and with a strangled cry she was across the room, covering his lips with desperate, wet kisses. "You idiot," she sobbed, between kisses, "you bloody idiot, why did you do that?!"

He chuckled, though grimaced at the pain, and kissed her back. "I got your back," he said, falling back on the bed, passing out from pain, blood loss or both.  


	38. Go to a sporting event together

The shot echoed around him, the empty casing flew out of the rifle and the kickback sent the gun not uncomfortably into his shoulder. _Twenty two_.

Another shot.

 _Twenty three_.

He lined up the next target; a legionary trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. Boone's finger hovered over the trigger, but before he could fire the man's head exploded in a shower of blood, bone and brains. Without pausing, he immediately picked out his next target and fired smoothly. _Twenty four_.

His eyes darted over the camp, one left. He double checked the scope as quickly as he could and only barely finding the man's head he let fly, smiling when the bullet hit home and the man crumpled beside his dead comrades.

From the other side of the ridge he heard Six's cry of protest.

"Twenty five," he announced, when the courier caught up with him.

She kicked her foot into the sand, " _fuck_! Nineteen."

"Nineteen?" he said, before he could stop himself. He didn't usually win by this much. Not that they usually killed this many, it had just been a good week for Legion parties. Or a bad one, depending on which side of the scope you were.

"Fuck you, that only puts you two ahead."

"Six - four," his air of satisfaction seemed to glow when Six flipped him off with her middle finger. He chuckled, she was a terribly sore loser.

She lightly weighed a handful of caps in one hand, "I'm buying then, where'd you wanna go?"

He smirked, and glanced around the hills, making sure they were alone. Happy they would not be disturbed, he reached out, hooking his thumbs under her belt and pulling her close. He ignored the way her eyes widened, _what here? now?!_ His lips trailed a line from her neck to her ear, "how about we stay right here?"  


	39. Listen

'What is it? Did you hear some- oh...'

 

'Mmm, you can wake me up like this any time.'

 

'Oh that feels so good.'

 

'Oh Boone....Craig!'

 

'Use your tongue, uuh, oh yes, right there...'

 

'You tease, oh God, I need you, please...'

 

'Craig, inside me, now!'

 

'Fuck you're so big, oh God that feels amazing...'

 

'Take me slowly, fuck me slowly oh yes, just like that, oh God you have the patience of a saint...'

 

'more, more...'

 

'kiss me...'

 

'harder, come on harder...'

 

'I know you can do better than that, fuck me harder Boone...'

 

'Oh fuck I'm so close, so fucking close...'

 

'Christ where did you learn that?! Oh fuck, _fuck fuck fuck_ , Oh fuck I'm coming...'

 

'Oh!'

 

'Fuck Craig, that was amazing...'

 

'Get back on your watch...don't wake me up unless it's important! I'm going back to sleep.'

 

'Shit, what is it this time?! Did you-oh- oh fuck... _again_?!...Oh...'

 


	40. Positive Reinforcement

Cass raised an eyebrow. Arcade looked as though all his Christmases had come at once. Six was picking her jaw up from somewhere off the floor. Veronica and Raul exchanged unimpressed looks, neither quite sure what the fuss was about.

"Anyone seen my shirt?" Boone asked from the doorway, freshly toweled, still flushed from the bath, topless, baring his exceptionally well defined torso. No one answered. "Guys? My shirt?" His eyes moved from Cass' obvious admiration, Six who was all but drooling, to Arcade, whose stare was probably best not analysed. "O...kay," he moved away from the door, shaking his head.

The three exchanged looks, "we need to do something about this," Cass announced. Arcade and Six nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Uh huh."

"Definitely."

Veronica and Raul just shrugged.

After that Boone's shirts seemed to disappear with startling regularity. The sniper, who had always covered up out of habit, took to wandering around topless just to save the hassle of looking for shirts, only to find them in the most random and inexplicable places.

"Guys this is getting ridiculous," his terse call came, one day, from the bedroom. "This is too far, Gannon!"

Arcade looked up at Six in surprise. Smiling she used the top of her boot to open the workbench locker just a tad. Just enough for Arcade to glimpse Boone's trousers folded neatly and hidden.


	41. Play a board game

The room was still dark when Six woke up. She didn't remember coming to bed, and given the way her head was banging she was sure she must have passed out after the sixth bottle of vodka was passed around...or was it seven? Someone must have put her to bed, probably Boone she mused, he always did stomach his drink better than the rest of them.

Her mouth was far too dry, she needed some water. She wobbled a bit when she stood, a little unsteady, unable to tell where being drunk ended and being hungover begun. Emerging in the hallway she paused when she heard voices drifting from the rec room. Through the door she could make out Boone and Arcade, from the looks of them still drinking, if that were even possible, with a chessboard set up between them. How could they possibly be playing games after so much liquor?

She would have ignored them, but Boone was speaking, something that happened so rarely it was an event in itself, but she heard her name and froze, leaning against the wall, partly so he couldn't see her, mostly for support.

"See, Carla was great," he slurred, "really great. 'll never love anyone like her. But she'd not been out there. Not seen what the wastes were like. Didn't know what soldiering was. Thought it was just a job."

"Is a job," Arcade cried, incoherently, "king me!"

"But Six, Six knows. She's been out there," he waved a hand around his head, "she's seen shit. She knows what it's like. S'like she understands me better than Carla could've." It sounded like he'd buried his head in his arm, "sorry Carla," he said, muffled by his sleeve. “Talking to Carla could make you forget. Six makes me remember, but...she makes me feel like I don't have to forget anymore.”

"Carla'd want you to be happy," Arcade said, in what Six supposed would have been his most philosophical tone, if it weren't for the considerable amount of alcohol in his system, "You can be happy with Six. Carla won't mind-" any further point he was going to make was lost as he collapsed against the table, sending the chessboard and all the bottle caps they used as pieces flying.

"I was winning!" Boone cried, seemingly oblivious to his companion's loud snores, "and I am happy," he added. "Six makes me happy."

Within seconds he was snoring too.

Smiling Six forgot all about the water she had so desperately needed a moment ago and crept back into the bed. Hangover and inebriation joined by a warm glow she'd never felt before. It only increased when she collapsed back on the bed and noticed on her bedside table; a bottle of purified water.  


	42. Go for a walk together

It had been Arcade's idea. They'd all been cooped up for too long, he said. They only ever ventured out as far as the strip, or if they felt particularly audacious; the Wrangler. As Six had a tendency to only take one companion out with her at a time, and as that companion was usually Boone, unless she had need of a particular skill the sniper lacked, the majority of them spent their days languishing, albeit lavishly, in the Lucky 38. And so they were all going for a walk. A long one. But not so long that they couldn't get back to running water and a refrigerator by nightfall, he'd insisted. Rex at the very least had needed it, though they could probably stand to leave ED-E behind, unless of course they happened to run into trouble, in which case they could use him to barter, or just abandon him somewhere in the wastes.

They ended up leaving ED-E behind just to stop Arcade suggesting it. Everyone else went along, if only to stop having to hear Arcade talking about the effects of long term isolation even in surroundings as _magnuficentia_ as these.

He didn't stop talking, even after they had all piled out, eliciting more than a few strange looks from the tourists of Vegas. Everyone knew the Lucky 38 had remained closed off for centuries and now a ragtag group of misfits, a robotic dog and a ghoul, led by an enthusiastic doctor exclaiming the benefits of fresh air, poured out and headed for the Mojave. They trekked for miles in no direction in particular, as long as it avoided fiends, just walking.

And however much not one of them would ever admit it to Arcade, currently standing on a small mound acting as umpire for a race between Cass and Veronica who were trying to outrun Rex, it _was_ surprisingly therapeutic. It felt good to stretch their limbs for no reason in particular, except for Raul who met any and all of Arcade's effusions with sarcastic rebuttals about how happy he would feel when his kneecaps wore away.

Arcade watched the group move on, Rex having far outstripped Veronica and Cass, Raul grumbling as he passed and realized that he hadn't seen much of Six and Boone. He looked back, wondering if they had snuck off before they'd left Freeside, but sure enough, there they were, trailing the group, ambling as though they had all the time in world. Six's arm was around Boone's waist, his own around her shoulder, her head inclined towards his chest. They seemed to be talking, or at least murmuring to each other as they took in the air, utterly oblivious to their friends' escapades. Raul caught Arcade's eyes and followed the gaze, both of them looked from the couple, who had seemingly given up all attempts at what they thought had been discretion, to each other.

"You know the old world doctors used to recommend taking a certain number of steps each day, to promote healthy living," Arcade announced, stepping off the mound and following the ghoul, who just rolled his eyes and groaned.  


	43. Wear a matching outfit

"SIX!" Boone's voice echoed around the gulch. Silence. _Dammit!_ “SIX?!"

She was around here somewhere, he'd seen her just a moment ago, disappearing into the dip. Along with a half dozen radscorpions,' his brain volunteered, unhelpfully.

"Down here," her voice called up. He was over the ridge and sliding down the slope, locating her easily from that call alone. She was half buried in dead radscorpions, "You o- oh..." he trailed off as he reached her. The courier's favored leather armor was in tatters, she was stripping what remained of the shirt away leaving her with a rather unattractive, military grade bra to protect her upper body.

Boone ruffled through his pack, while she injected herself with what looked like a double dose of anti-venom. She looked up to find him holding out his spare shirt. It wouldn't protect her against anything save the sun but it was better than crossing the Mojave in her underwear, though Boone mused there was a certain allure to that prospect.

The courier shrugged on the shirt but paused when she realized her companion was laughing at her. It wasn't like Boone to smile let alone laugh, yet something had amused him greatly. She caught a glimpse of herself in his shades and got the joke. She was still wearing the beret he gave her on their first meeting, she also wore shades, as did anyone with a brain crossing the desert, and now with his shirt she matched him like for like.

"Let's move out," he said.

"Sure," she replied in a gruff imitation of his voice, "I got your back."

He sighed and turned away. Six didn't smile, passing him with an expressionless face, though she took the time to mimic his particular way of clambering up the slopes, even though she was unencumbered by the large rifle he carried.

The journey back to Forlorn Hope would normally have been conducted in silence, and for Boone's part it was. Six on the other hand had taken to making necessary observations about her partner, copying his voice in what he begrudgingly admitted was a very good impression.

"I'm Boone and I don't like to talk," she growled, "I'm too busy imagining dead legionaries to have a conversation."

"I'm Boone and I don't take my beret off coz it's actually part of my head."

"I'm Boone and I only have one expression; it's called angry. Even when I'm happy. I'm angry."

"I'm Boone and I -"

"I'm Six," Boone interrupted, "and I am going to shut the fuck up or Boone is going to blow my head off."

She paused for a moment, just a moment while they stared at each other, "I'm Boone and I think threatening to shoot someone is a reasonable reaction to a joke, or stealing my beret," she retorted, but fell silent afterwards.

For a minute anyway.

"I'm Boone and I don't gamble, even though my poker face could clean out half The Strip."

Boone groaned, audibly. It was going to be a long walk. A very long walk.

"I'm Boone and when I groan I sound like a blind deathclaw walking into a cliff..."

 


	44. Kiss and hug your significant other for no reason

Six had this habit, not an altogether annoying one, of jumping in to kiss him at random intervals. Boone supposed it was his own fault, after all, he had practically devoured her that first night at the Lucky 38. And she always did it when no one was around, maintaining a semblance of discretion even though nobody could fail to notice that they shared a bed.

Whenever she broke away though, she always had a reason.

"For killing that radscorpion," after a quick peck on the cheek as she passed him.

"That's for sticking with me," a lingering kiss on the lips as they passed Novac once and didn't stop.

"For putting up with me and...y'know...everything..." a drunken slobber after a particularly raucous night with Cass.

And after a particularly passionate exchange that had almost led to them embarrassing themselves in the kitchen, while he attempted to cook, "just 'coz."  


	45. Play strip poker

Cass was naked, but had been allowed to preserve her modesty through the use of her hat. Arcade was similarly naked but suffered from no such shame and was content to be so, at the end of the table. Now that the two weaker players were out, Six was losing clothes at an alarming rate in stark contrast to Boone, who actually seemed to have gained clothes.

"Can I go now?" Cass asked, "this is kind of getting weird."

She had a point, after all she had gone out over an hour ago. But neither Six nor Boone looked up from their cards, something which Cass took as assent. "Arcade?"

"Oh I'm staying," he replied, cheerfully, "If Boone's about to strip I'm obliged to stick it out." His jibe went unnoticed by the sniper, who probably would have thumped him for such a remark, were he not staring down the courier with unrivaled intensity. Cass shrugged and fled to the guest bedroom.

Boone and Six eyes up the final card on the table. Three kings, a two and a five.

"All in," Six smiled, staring across at her opponent. Boone's face remained impassive as it had done throughout the game, he seemed to be considering his options, staring at Six through his shades. Cass had demanded he removed them before the game started, he replied that he would...when he lost a hand.

"Too rich?" she taunted, "if I have the king you'll lose everything."

Boone continued to stare. Arcade was actually holding his breath. This was the longest a hand had been drawn out, if Boone folded the doctor would never see him naked, though he might have to lose the shades at long last.

"Call," he said, calmly, placing his own cards face down. "Show 'em."

The unintentional pun was lost on everyone but Arcade as Six's face fell and she flipped over her two cards to reveal a grand total of nothing. Stony faced Boone revealed a single card. A two.

"Oh fuck you, Boone," Six snapped, fleeing the table.

Arcade laughed, even Boone chuckled, not at all bothered that she hadn't stripped. He could after all, ensure she did that later, without the good doctor in the audience.

"Well played," Arcade congratulated him, helping to clear away the cards and discarded clothes, "pair of twos eh? I'd be annoyed too." Boone was still chuckling, though he seemed to be laughing at a private joke more than the doctor. Arcade raised an eyebrow. Rocking the chair back onto two legs, looking extremely smug, Boone flipped the remaining card, revealing the King of Hearts.  


	46. Pack a surprise lunch note in your partner's lunch

Boone straightened up, bringing with him a handful of carrots from the fridge, but the motion caused him to wince and for a moment he had to steady himself on the door. He wasn't in the best shape, he probably shouldn't be doing this. He used his hip to shut the refrigerator door, but even that was enough to elicit a small gasp of pain. Ok, he definitely shouldn't be doing this. But this was his last night, the caps were too good to turn down and Gannon had patched him up well enough to keep the worst of the injuries in check. Though not without a fair bit of philosophising on Boone's need to engage in such base competition. Boone had ignored most of what he'd said until the doctor had mentioned that Six had been asking questions. Sneaking in and out of the '38 was easy, hiding bruises, cuts and God knows what else from her, not so much.

"She knows, y'know," Arcade had muttered, sewing up a particularly nasty laceration from a cazador, or had that been the radscorpion? Boone hadn't replied, couldn't think of anything to say, not that he'd have said it if he had. He knew she wouldn't approve of his assignations to the Thorn, she'd worry, she wouldn't get it. He winced again. Just one more night and he'd have made enough caps to never have to step foot there again and live comfortably for a while. She wouldn't have to accept _every_ fool's errand that came her way. Wouldn't have to traipse across the Mojave doing menial, miserable work for next to no money and almost lose her life in the process.

"Going out?" Six asked from the doorway. He jumped, he hadn't heard her. She leaned against the door frame, arms folded, watching him pack the carrots raw into his pack.

"Yeah."

"Want me to come?"

"No."

"Wanna tell me where you're going?"

"No."

She paused, "...but you're ok, right?"

"Right."

Her charcoal eyes stared at him, taking him in for a long while before she finally said, "ok," and moved off.

He'd finished his first fight and had one more to go when he took a moment to eat something. He hesitated when he saw a note tucked into the top of his lunch box. He unrolled it, sighing when he saw Six's unmistakable, untidy hand, "if you die I'll feed Red Lucy to her deathclaws."


	47. Organize a romantic night together

Boone and Six were up to something. Six had spent the morning making candles from prickly pears, the radio had gone missing, as had a couple of bottles of wine and the two had been slipping in and out of the elevator all day, but never together. Something was up, made all the more infuriating by the fact that neither Six nor Boone seemed to communicate with each other through something as mundane as words. But Arcade and Cass had their own methods of communicating. Cass raised her eyebrows and with a quick gesture of her head in the direction of the obvious courier, currently warming some radscorpion casserole and whistling _Something's Gotta Give_ , she conveyed an entire plan to Arcade. He nodded his mute approval and left to find Boone, unusually taking a mid day bath, a suit laid out on his bed. Where did he even get that suit?

Boone disappeared shortly after dusk had drawn in, Six followed suit a little later and Cass and Arcade waited. They gave it an hour before heading into the elevator to find them. They had to search the casino and a few of the lesser used floors before they emerged in the cocktail lounge. Both were sneaking behind long since disused counters. Tucked away they saw Six's candles burning merrily, the radscorpion casserole had long since been demolished and half drunk wine sat in glasses reflecting the candlelight.

Both of them stopped dead when they saw their friends.

Boone in a suit, Six in a dress, both slow dancing to _Where Have You Been All My Life_?

Cass and Arcade exchanged mute glances. Where the hell did Boone learn to dance? The sniper's hand rested gentle on the small of his lover's back as he dipped her, claiming her lips as he brought her back up. Cass was already backing away, while Arcade followed after a few moments of unabashed staring. Six couldn't remember her name, but she could slow dance? The two friends sneaked back to the suite in amused silence. Above them the music changed, the candles burned out and Boone and Six kissed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make candles out of fruit? You're crazy!   
> Or am I? http://corrinna-johnson.hubpages.com/hub/how-to-make-natural-citrus-fruit-candles


	48. Brag to others about something your partner has achieved

"Guys! _Guys_!" Six's shout came the very moment the elevator doors opened. She was a blur as she ran to the rec room, Veronica the only occupant; she'd do. "He's dead! He's dead! Boone put a bullet in his brain!"

"Huh?" Veronica asked, but the courier was already gone.

Cass and Raul were in the kitchen, they needed to be told. "Boone put a bullet in his head!" she cried, throwing her arms around ED-E and all but dancing with him.

"Who's head?" Arcade asked, summoned by the noise. Boone hadn't yet left the elevator, his expression as unreadable as it ever was.

"You should have seen it," Six gushed, "there were so many of them and then we got to the tent and bam! Right through the head!"

"Oh hey, did Boone kill someone?" Raul called, "maybe with some sort of bullet? To the head? You shoulda said something boss."

"You guys," she breathed, "Boone put a bullet in Caesar's head. He's dead!"

Everyone fell silent, an audible 'oh' of realization dawning on them. They all turned to the doorway where Boone stood in the doorway, having finally left the elevator. They all stared at him as though waiting for a speech, with a shrug Boone repeated the words that had popped into his head at the time, "thumbs down."

Even Raul laughed. Arcade patted him meaningfully on the shoulder, Veronica beamed at him, Cass was already breaking out the moonshine, any excuse. They clapped him on the back, offered him beer, played music far too loud and had a veritable party while Six regaled them _again_ , with the story of how Boone killed someone. With some sort of bullet. To the head.  


	49. Next time you argue, choose to be kind rather than right

"I think it would help!" the courier persisted, urgently. Her eyes were wide in the firelight, concern written all over her face. Boone wondered when he had ever seen someone so obviously distressed on his behalf, wondered if he ever had. "We're only, what half a day? away, I think-"

"It won't help," he snapped, "and we are not having this conversation."

He turned on his heel, but she wasn't about to let him walk away from the discussion... _again_.

She slid in front of him, pressing both hands on his chest as though to keep him there, "Craig, listen to me," he flinched, she so rarely addressed him by his first name, "I'm worried about you. I'm _really_ worried about you. You carry around all this guilt for shit you won't talk about, you hardly sleep and when you do you have nightmares. You think the whole world is out to get you. For fuck's sake the way you talk about Carla...you talk about her like she was always going to die as soon as you spoke to her. And the baby...you were going to be a _father_ , Craig, doesn't that mean-'

"Enough," he shouted. She shrank back, she'd never seen him raise his voice before, not to anyone, "I said I'm done." He lightly but forcefully pushed her aside, "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."

"But..."

"Sleep," he snapped and disappeared over the ridge, looking for something to shoot.

Six's foot connected harshly with the sand beneath her, kicking up a cloud of dust, and she let out a cry of frustration. She thought, for a moment, about catching up with him, but she'd pushed him too far already. He'd vanished into the darkness anyway and was liable to shoot her unaware, if she sneaked up on him. He was probably liable to shoot her anyway.

She lay down on the bedroll, worrying about him wouldn't help. He said he was fine. She closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep, hating herself for not trying harder.

The sky was black as pitch when he woke her. A gentle tap on her shoulder the only thing needed to have her fully alert and sitting up in seconds. They were used to this routine. Silently she slipped from the bedroll and picked up her faithful 10mm, leaving the covers open for him to slide into. She was stepping away when he called to her, he was still beside the bedroll on his haunches, staring at the dying firelight. "Hey...I thought some more about what you said. I think...maybe you're right? Maybe I should go to Bitter Springs." His eyes flickered to hers and then quickly back to the fire, "I...I don't know what I'm hoping to find there," he sighed.

The relief that spread through her was palpable. Before he could say anything more, she holstered the pistol and draped an arm around his shoulder, "C'mon then. Let's go to Bitter Springs."  


	50. Focus on the Positives

From the top of the mountain Six had a perfect view of the whole strip, lit up as dusk drew across the Mojave. Boone was still climbing, so she settled down and waited, watching him negotiate the pathways up. He was gorgeous, she mused, admiring his physique, evident even beneath the NCR armor he wore. His arms were free at least, his muscles tight as he held the rifle across his chest even though they'd scouted the area before the climb. Shame he never smiled, though she guessed that made him all the more attractive when he did smile. He'd woken up once, and for the brief moment before he realized where he was he'd beamed at her, actually beamed, as though the sight of her had made everything in his world right. Then he'd realised who she was, or rather, _wasn't_ , and the smile disappeared. She'd never seen it again, and though she envied Carla that look, she couldn't help but be glad, if only a little, that for a time Boone had had someone that could make him that happy.

She liked to think she made him happy, or at the very least, she didn't make him unhappy. He certainly made _her_ happy. He'd never love her, at any rate, never the way he loved Carla, and that was fine. Six wasn't entirely sure she loved him, but she trusted him and that was enough. He didn't seem to care that she was just as damaged as he was, just in a different way. For all the times he couldn't sleep for remembering Bitter Springs, she couldn't sleep for not remembering anything. Those were the nights that found them finding solace in each other's arms more often than not. Not that that was the only time they found their way to the other's bed. And he was fantastic in bed. It would be easy to call this whole thing 'just sex', but that would be a lie. No one having 'just sex' found excuses to just touch each other in passing to remind themselves they were there, or spend whole nights just holding each other, or invent reasons to spend time with each other doing nothing. Like the night they spent in the cocktail lounge, lying across each other and staring out over the strip, watching the night sky turn into dawn, neither saying a word. Then there were all the times they had fun, or as much fun as he would allow himself to have before it got too much and he shut it out, determined not to enjoy himself too much out of some misplaced sense that he didn't deserve it. But they had their games, granted they were mostly centered on killing legionaries or having sex on as many surfaces in the '38 as they could, but they were games nonetheless.

Hell, maybe this was love, she thought. She couldn't imagine life without him, and the few times she'd almost lost him didn't bear thinking about, as did the desolation she faced while she waited for him to regain pull through. He'd felt the same when it had been her at death's door. He'd never told her but she recognized that special brand of relief in his eyes when she woke. Maybe this was the closest either of them would get to finding someone, lord knows he would never love her like Carla, lord knows he would never admit to love even if he did, and that was fine, what did she know of love anyway? The only person she could remember feeling anything for was him. She might have a devoted husband somewhere in the world who was dying of heartbreak for all she knew. And she would be content to let him if it meant keeping Boone nearby.

She reached out to him and pulled him up the last stretch, he always did hate climbing. He cleared the summit with a grunt, not pausing to admire the view. He held her hand for no longer than was necessary and waited for her to move on. When she started walking he held back, his eyes everywhere at once, if anything even thought about jumping her he'd have it's head before it knew he was there. Maybe it wasn't love, but as she looked back and saw the extreme concentration as he focused on keeping her alive, she thought it was enough.  


End file.
